Spectre
by ghikiJ
Summary: How does one kill fear? How does one embrace a shadow? Just how does one deliver a letter written with tears to a recipient bathed in blood? "Are you there?" The fiend smiled brokenly. "No, it is you I fear who doesn't exist." AU. Collab with Athyra.
1. Preface: Nuntius Ex Umbra

After nearly three months of inactivity in the K-ON fandom, I feel guilty for uploading this story instead of the ones listed on my profile. However, Athyra and I felt that this story must be told as soon as possible. This is the product of the S-Project, a collaboration work between Athyra and me to add a different flavor in this fandom.

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><p><strong>Spectre<strong>

By

**ghikiJ** and **Athyra**

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong> How does one kill fear? How does one embrace a shadow? Just how does one deliver a letter written with tears to a recipient bathed in blood? "Are you there?" The fiend smiled brokenly. "No, it is you I fear who doesn't exist." AU. In collaboration with Athyra.

**Disclaimer:** We do not own K-ON! or any of its characters.

**Note:** Before reading on, note the genres of this story. Also, this story is set in a fictional rendition of Industrial Age Europe. Of course, given the nature of this story, we took a lot of liberties with the setting. Excuse any historical inaccuracies, if there are any.

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><p><strong>Preface: <strong>Nuntius Ex Umbra<strong> **

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><p><em>November 27, 1822<em>

_~o~o~o~_

_This would be the last time I'll be writing in this journal._

_I am going to put this tiny book in this drawer so that, one day, someone might chance upon it with a look of pleasant surprise on their face._

_What could be written in these yellowed pages, they might wonder. _

_Just what is this old and tattered booklet doing in this elegant mansion of a wealthy count, they might ask as they look about this room with a thoughtful frown._

_They might even be travelers from far away, looking for a place to settle down and start a new chapter of their lives._

_Yet, this manor is no longer fit for living._

_There are only despair and hopelessness trapped within these empty corridors, reverberating relentlessly without an exit. Nothing escapes these terrible confines. _

_As the person most familiar with this disguise of a purgatory, I know that any unfortunate souls who enter this vacant building will be overwhelmed by the grief permeating in the air. Therefore, I have recorded everything I remember in these pages to provide evidence that, once upon a time, this place was filled with laughter. _

_The mansion's residents were once happy._

_I could still see the curves of their lips, radiating in sheer joy, unaware of the calamity that would strike them so cruelly. _

_I do not want to think that such innocent smiles will never appear in this mansion again. Nothing should be impossible. I just haven't searched hard enough yet. _

_I can still think._

_I can still hope._

_As much as it pains me to leave this place I used to call home, I must go on a journey beyond these earthly fences to look for the irreplaceable treasures that were robbed from me. I must escape the confines of past sorrows before the void in my chest can be filled. _

_What will I find?_

_What will happen to this place after my departure?_

_Who will answer the cries disrupting the silence of this mansion?_

-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-

_An acquaintance of mine informed me of a possible destination, or perhaps a temporary stop, in my quest. I plan to go there once I put down this quill._

_This is it. _

_I have no need to ponder any longer. _

_I will do what I can. _

_As of this moment, I will become a shadow._

_Always wandering yet marching down the path with a purpose in mind. _

_Always wondering but observing the world with a detached view._

_I am here._

_Yet I am not here._

_Goodbye, you._

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><p>Drip, drip.<p>

"_I'll save you! I'll bring you back!"_

Words echoed in her mind like a drop of blood dissipating in water. Its color marred the clarity of her mind.

But they were empty words.

Frantic calls.

Again and again, the voices echoed in her head. Hazy images of people she once knew flashed in her mind.

Phantoms.

She hugged her knees, quivering. Wisps of fog left her mouth and gradually dispersed into chilly evening air as her breathing labored under the stress of her troubled psyche. They were back, those horrid memories, those nightmares. Visions of deceitful grins and malevolent irises swam in front of her eyes.

"_You're not well, my dear. I will cure you."_

She trembled, afraid.

_Don't touch me._

She curled her body into a tight ball. She wanted to hide. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

However, her tormentors were able to reach her even in the deepest corners of her cognizance. They wrapped their wraith-like fingers around what was left of her soul. They plagued her whenever they wished and she could do nothing to keep them away. She was a helpless victim of their vicious play.

Tears dripped from benumbed, unblinking eyes.

Another flash and another memory showed itself.

"_Wake up… you need to wake up!"_

"_I swear I'll bring you back! I promise… oh, god, I promise."_

How she once loved that voice, so gentle and loving…

It was the angel to her life. It was the trumpet that hailed for her sanity to return.

Her dilated eyes struggled to focus.

_I've been awake._

_I've always been awake._

_Even though all I wanted to do was sleep._

The girl dug thick and sharp nails into her legs. She felt a sting. She felt pain but it did little to arouse her consciousness from its deranged stupor.

She stared at the cobblestone floor of this prison she confined herself in. It was smooth, worn away by the years. Many empty shells have been here, imprisoned away from the world. They were probably like her but, at the same time, they were not.

They were not monsters like her.

They were probably murderers, lechers, or thieves, criminals who did earthly crimes. They paid for their transgressions in this place, this dungeon. They atoned for their sins then they were either killed or given another chance at life. They were punished for what they have done, but they were allowed to move on in death or in life.

There were no such sentences for her.

She felt the smooth stones with padded toes and scratched the surfaces with her claws, leaving shallow marks. A small, listless curve formed on her lips, a hollow smile that meant nothing else but disappointment.

Things like her should not exist.

She wished that she just remained dead if the alternative meant she had to live as a Spectre, an apparition that should only exist in nightmares.

She glanced at the prone figure at the edge of her vision. It was the bleached skeleton of a girl she once knew, mangled and dried in this dark place. It was surrounded by indistinguishable pieces of fabrics, torn remains of the girl's clothes. The bones were so old that the joints were not connected anymore, jagged edges of broken ribs jutted out where they should not, and long bones were broken in half, their uneven ends appearing to have been gnawed on. Shallow teeth marks were engraved in the osseous matter as if something had cleaned out the bones. Perhaps without a grave, the body was feasted upon by creatures that existed in this dungeon.

The person the corpse used to be was her only companion, her one true friend. That skeleton was once her most important person.

But even her most important person abandoned her in favor of eternal sleep, sentencing her into solitary damnation.

The Spectre uncurled herself as the voices in her head gradually hushed and the fear that resonated in her limbs ebbed. She then crawled gracelessly towards the dried bones and sat next to it. She gazed at its skull, trying to place the face she remembered onto the hollow sockets staring at her. It was an impossible feat. There was no way such an innocent smile could be superimposed on a morbidly grinning cranium.

Smiling wistfully, the Spectre lifted a heavy hand to touch the skull, as if she would still be able to feel the smooth cheek that was once there. She rested her palm on the skull's dome and tried to imagine the lush locks she used to comb every night but she could not do so. It was smooth and dry bone that she touched, not soft brown hair.

Reality was indeed cruel.

"I told you not to sleep here but you didn't listen." The Spectre spoke softly and yet her voice still echoed back and forth within the space between thick stone walls.

No one could hear her here.

"You never listened… now look what it did to you."

She heard an apologetic chuckle and saw an innocent smile in her mind.

"_But I can't help it. There were so many things to do. Sorry, Sister."_

She continued to stroke the skeleton's head, her mind lost in the memory of better days. It was her asylum, this fickle mind of hers. It was both her sanctuary and her prison. Within its silence, her phantoms sang haunting hymns from faded memories. There was no need for sound in this place, no need for sights, tastes, and sensations. The steady dripping of water onto the cobblestone was more than enough noise for her.

Drip… drip… drip.

If she tried hard enough, she could silence even that quiet tapping and allow absolute darkness of her living death to consume her.

Yet suddenly, nervous footsteps reverberated in the eerie silence and tore the Spectre away from her imaginations, ripping her away from her dark labyrinth of merged memories, hers and the beast within.

"_Look! I brought you some flowers!"_

"_Aww, thank you. They're so pretty."_

"_Ehe~ Oh! I saw this kitty out in the gardens!"_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah! It was so cute! I wanted to show it to you but it ran away. Don't worry though, maybe it was just scared. I'm sure it'll come back, and when it does, I'll show it to you. I know you really like cats."_

"I-is someone here?" A voice called from beyond the thick iron door of the dungeon.

The Spectre lifted her gaze from the corpse and fixed it onto the rusty doors. No, it couldn't be the girl from her memories. Her beloved angel had already returned to heaven. The skull in the Spectre's hand was more than enough proof.

"Hello?" The voice called once again.

A mixture of fear and rage bubbled inside the Spectre's chest. The voice was that of a woman or a girl, she could not quite tell but she was certain it was no one she knew. She sat still, willing the intruder to leave for no one else belonged here but her. Yet the footsteps continued to pitter-patter on the smooth stone. It drew closer and closer until she could see a torch's glow underneath the gap between the floor and the dungeon's doors. Compared to the dying sunlight that managed to enter the prison through the ventilation holes, the warm orange glow of fire looked so much more treacherous.

The Spectre remained still even though her muscles were already coiling. Maybe the intruder would be wise enough not to open those rusted barriers. No one must see her. No human should be cursed by her presence. She must remain an apparition, a thing of myth.

Should the woman open those doors, the Spectre must kill her.

_Turn back._

_Don't come in._

The iron hinges of the door creaked and light flooded the entire room.

Eyes seared by the piercing light, the Spectre covered her face with her arms.

The trespasser looked around to investigate this dark cellar-like room she managed to get into, unaware that she just opened a monster's cage. She held out her torch so more of the room was illuminated. She spoke at the first sign of human movement within the ill-lighted room.

"Thank God… I knew there was someone in here. As I thought, this place didn't look as deserted as it did. I'm here to deliver something, a letter." Despite the circumstances, the stranger's speech barely wavered from a tone of practiced professionalism. The only clues that belied her nervousness were the uneasy way she held herself as she stood, and the way she gripped the strap of the cargo she carried.

Still curled up into a protective ball, the Spectre impatiently waited for her eyes, so long used to darkness, to adjust to the invasive light. From the gap between her arms, the Spectre could see that the torch's bearer was indeed a young woman. She wore a long trench coat that made her stature look smaller than it should and a dark scarf was wrapped around her neck. Her long dark hair was tied in a ponytail and on her hip was a bag, slightly bulging with items.

"Are you this place's caretaker?" The woman in the trench coat asked, squinting to see the coiled figure on the other side of the dungeon.

"You shouldn't be here…" The Spectre croaked. She didn't know how she sounded but she fervently hoped that the woman would hear and understand that she was not welcomed in this place.

"My apologies, I just want to deliver this to Miss…" The woman moved the torch so she could read the washed out script on the envelope in her hand. "Yui."

The Spectre went rigid.

She felt something in her awareness snap.

"If I haven't misread the address written in this note then I should in the right place." The courier continued.

The Spectre growled, "Get out."

_Get away before I kill you…_

Taken aback by the hostility, the woman flustered for a moment before her professional mask covered her surprise once again. She tried to reason, "I will leave as soon as I deliver this letter. I won't impose on you any further after that. The manor's doors were locked and no one answered when I knocked. This is the only entrance I found to be open, and you're the only person here. I must deliver this letter to Miss Yui."

"That does not belong here… neither do you." The Spectre snarled. "Get out of this place!"

_Go! Leave!_

The woman became silent and raised her torch to shine more light onto the opposite side of the room where the Spectre was. "Are you Yu—"A startled gasp, "Oh my god…"

The light in the dungeon dimmed the moment the torch landed on the damp floor.

As the darkness reclaimed the surroundings, the Spectre slowly unfurled herself and scraped her claws onto the smooth stone. Darkness was also her friend after all.

A bone chilling screech sliced through the silence as the Spectre's claws ground against the floor.

"W-what are y-you…?" The intruder gawked, stepping away from the approaching unknown.

_A monster…_

Meager remnants of the human within the Spectre disappeared.

"What am I?" The Spectre parroted with a hint of sinister humor in her voice. Emboldened by the dying light, she stepped forward into the perimeter of the remaining luminosity provided by the perishing ember. Her clawed and scaled feet first came into view, then her dirty and partially scaled legs. She could see the courier's eyes widen in fear and it pleased her somehow. There was something about that expression of dread that felt so familiar to the Spectre.

"Stay where you are!" The woman barked as she continued to step back. She should just turn and run but instinct told her not to expose her back to this fiend.

The Spectre continued her advance. "But you asked what I am." An empty chuckle left her lips. "I will show you..." She stepped next to the glowing remains of the torch, and it revealed her tattered dress and her clawed fingers. One more step and the vanishing light exposed the uneven protrusions on her head.

Horns.

The Spectre grinned just before the light was finally snuffed out of existence.

The woman gasped again, horrified, and turned to run.

The monster lunged forward and gripped the woman's arm. The courier, frightened of the _thing_ she found, yelped and tried to pull away but the Spectre had her claws caught in the courier's sleeve.

"Let go!" The woman yelled, afraid, then grabbed whatever she could use against this abomination. Her hands copped a rotting piece of wood near the wall she was almost trapped against and immediately swung it at the Spectre. The makeshift club shattered against the Spectre's scales but it managed to loosen its grip on the courier. The woman's sleeve was not spared, however, and was torn to shreds by monster's sharp claws.

The Spectre's growls became louder.

"How dare you…"

The letter bearer dropped her useless weapon and turned towards the door once again to run and preserve her life. Unfortunately, even though the blow was able to put some distance between her and the fiend, the woman felt a sharp pain that immediately took over her senses.

Something sharp was digging into her left arm.

"How dare you…" The Spectre repeated, voice crazed, "Do you want to break the other one now?" Furious, she dug her claw deeper into the courier's arm.

"Let me go!" The intruder protested even more, striking the Spectre with any limb she could. But the more she struggled, the more the beast clamped down on her.

"Do you not know how much it hurt?"

The Spectre giggled manically, relishing the sensation of hot blood flowing between her fingers.

When was the last time she felt such a thing…?

The woman hissed and used her free hand to frantically search her coat's pocket for a knife she always wished she would never have to use. Pulling the weapon out, she bit its sheath and pulled the blade from its confines. The Spectre's eyes widened, surprised by the subdued glint of the metal, and stepped back just in time before the courier brandished the weapon against her. The Spectre felt the wind of the slash towards her face but, instead of the instinctual fear, animalistic rage flared in her eyes.

She watched the blade the same way a lynx watched for its prey's movements.

The courier held the knife in front of her, eyes blazing in desperation. She gulped, knowing the danger she was in, the peril she unknowingly walked into. She rotated the knife within the grip of her damp gloved hand. The slickness of her hold did nothing to ease her fears. She could barely see anything after all, and the horrific sight she saw merely moments ago made her stomach turn. Just what did she find?

"Don't come any closer." The black-haired woman warned and started to make her way back to the iron door where she came in. The faintest of light could be seen beyond the portal's pathway, and she knew quickly that the light was her only hope to escape.

The Spectre only continued to watch, looking as if she was enticed by the faint glimmer of metal against the last rays of sunlight that managed to shine through the door and the ventilation holes. It looked like a dancing fairy, or maybe a playful firefly. It looked so alive and free. It looked like the very thing she could never be.

She must extinguish it.

The Spectre lunged, uncaring of how she met the sharp blade. The courier tried to evade the Spectre's claws by parrying it with her knife. However, all she was able to do was nick the Spectre's hand before the fiend slapped the weapon away from her hand.

The metal clanged against the cobblestone and slid next to the skeleton on the ground.

Without her only means of protection, the courier bolted towards the door, holding her injured arm. It was her only chance. She must run away.

But the monster would not allow that.

The Spectre grabbed the woman by her ponytail and shoved her face first against the dungeon doors. "You're not leaving. I can't have you tell other humans that I live here, yes?" She whispered into the courier's ear. Her light voice was a stark contrast to the threat she uttered. She then trailed her bloody fingers up her victim's arm and hung her claws on the exposed flesh of the courier's shoulder.

She smiled at the intruder's pained hiss. With a curiosity of a child, the Spectre opened the woman's skin with a sharp claw, wondering if she would be rewarded by an agonizing yelp.

"A-ah!" The courier cried out and then whimpered through gritted teeth. She tried to struggle but the monster's grip was too strong, and she couldn't move anymore.

Pleased, the Spectre licked her lips at the scent of fresh blood dripping down the courier's arm.

"D-don't kill me… p-please." The monster's prey sobbed against the hard iron door.

_I don't want to kill you…_

"I can't let you get away."

Just for her sheer sadistic entertainment, the Spectre used her other hand to rip her prey's scarf, taking with it a part of fearful woman's clothes. She could hear the loud beating pulse in the human's neck, mocking her. This human was so painfully alive and her very existence ridiculed the Spectre's subsistence.

It angered her.

She must snuff this breathing creature's breath and tame its living human pulse to regain the silence of her asylum. The Spectre smiled, exposing her teeth to the musty air of the cell, and grabbed the courier's neck in her hand.

It fitted so perfectly in her palm.

The Spectre heard a terrified gasp and felt a shaking sob against her body.

"Someone… h-help."

She felt a drop of water on her hand.

A tear.

"_You can't die… don't leave me."_

"_Don't touch her! Haven't you done enough?"_

"_She's dying because of you!"_

They were back, the phantoms that haunted her endlessly.

Lost, the Spectre's hold went lax. Her eyes were unfocused once again. She saw not the trespasser who threatened to disrupt her personal hell but the angel who valiantly tried to defend her. The hands on the courier's shoulder and neck knew that familiar trembling. Her ears knew those sobs well.

She jolted away from the woman as if she was burned.

Unblinking eyes turned towards the prone skeleton on the floor then back towards the shaking woman in a trench coat.

The Spectre took another step back, disgust evident in her face. She looked down at the slick wetness on her palms only to realize that one of her hands had been stained by the woman's blood while the other was wet because of her tears.

Blood and tears.

"_Why are you bleeding…?"_

"_Because of you."_

"_Why are you crying…?"_

"_I'm crying for you."_

A raking sob shook the Spectre's frame. She closed her hands over her face. Tears she thought to have long dried flowed once again.

_What is this feeling…? I don't know anymore…_

She collapsed to her knees, defeated by all the frenzied thoughts and emotions that have tortured her for so long. She could not stop crying. She could not stop trembling. She could not stop fearing the chaotic tides of sensations that threatened to drown her.

The Spectre did not even notice that her prey was gone. She did not even care. Whatever was left of her sanity wished that the woman would come back with a group of hunters just so she could finally die. She wished they would butcher her, behead her, and parade her carcass around town like the animal that she had become.

She wished.

_Help me…_

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><p><em>Gasp.<em>

Thud. Thud. Thud.

_Gasp_.

Thud. Thud.

Hitched shriek.

Heavy thump.

Her ribs were constricting her, interfering with her desperate quest for air. Broken twigs dug into her skin, rubbing her wound raw and renewing the flow of crimson liquid. Dilated pupils gazed at the mesmerizing droplets as they landed upon the parched soil.

Blood.

Her blood.

Hysteria drilled into her bones, shocking her hazy mind into alertness once more. Her burning limbs tried to trudge through this invincible swamp of terror. She could still feel the coolness of those claws on her skin, the phantom brush of that stranger's hot breath against her neck –

She clenched her eyes shut and whimpered helplessly as vivid images assaulted her mind.

That was no mere stranger.

That _thing_, that _monster_ –

She opened her eyes frantically, willing the dying rays of the sun to dispel the darkness invading her senses. She could see the woods thickening and the leaves turning into lush green. She could make it out of this horrific area, far away from this lifeless labyrinth, far away from that dreadful dungeon, far away from that creature.

A pair of tragically dim brown orbs flashed across her mind.

Like a deadened anchor, her bag's sudden weight dragged her down. Her hacking coughs echoed between the drying trees, amplifying the emptiness of this timeless forest. Darkness was drowning her persistently, lulling her into its treacherous embrace. She reached out with her uninjured arm and grasped feebly at the grass before she fell into the abyss of unconsciousness. She struggled to breathe as her vision began to blur. She could barely feel frigid air stroking her stiff and numb arm through her torn sleeve.

_I was just delivering a letter. _

She blinked at the fallen item in front of her and wondered why it stood out so much, surrounded by these malicious shadows. Maroon stains marred the recipient's name, giving it an eerie sheen.

Yui.

This three-lettered name seemed to glare at her mockingly, scorning her for her failure to deliver the letter to its rightful recipient.

_But how could I stay at that place? I was almost killed!_

By what? It didn't matter how human those brown eyes appeared. It didn't matter how terrified that creature looked even as it snarled its threats.

It was amused at her pain.

It relished at the wet warmth of her blood between its claws.

_No, that thing could not have been a human!_

Tears and sweat trickled down her muddied cheek as her breaths became shallower and more frantic.

_I can't faint here. It can catch up to me any moment._

_But I can't move. _

Before the sun hid behind the horizon, the last bit of light landed upon the insignia embroidered on her glove as if to remind her of her sworn duty.

The small bird glowed, its feathers ablaze, and casted an envisaged warmth upon her.

Revitalized from seeing the symbol of her conviction basking in light, she struggled to reach her precious cargo. Everything would be over if she gave up now. The letter, any letter, contained priceless messages that linked the sender and the recipient. It was by no means just a piece of paper. It meant something to someone. It mattered.

Those priceless messages and the feelings they contain must be conveyed properly.

"_A letter for you, miss."_

"_Thank you. Oh, why does it look so dirty?"_

"_Ah, truthfully, this letter was supposed to arrive weeks ago but the courier came down with a terrible illness and collapsed in the forest. He was only able to come to the mansion now to deliver the letter. He apologized profusely for its delay."_

"_I see. At least the courier tried his best. All that matters is that he is fine now, and I received the letter. Thank you, you may go now."_

Cold sweat trickled down her temple but it had nothing to do with the fever plaguing her thoughts. She could barely feel her wound because she was pained by the ache in her chest more. Her glazed gaze fixated on the seal of the letter, a tiny circle, just like the one from her memories.

She could still hear that shriek of horror leaving her throat at the content of the letter. She could still recall the ghastly piece of paper harmlessly fluttering towards the ground as nausea consumed her body and soul.

It was already too late.

She found out too late.

Tears of frustration and helplessness gathered at the corners of her eyes as she tried to remember her parents' smiles but she could not do so.

She couldn't even remember what they look like.

_It's all because of the timing..._

Even though there was no date stamped on this letter, it must be delivered.

Her mind could not handle the possibility of someone else going through the same agony she did.

_To go on in life without living…_

When her stiff fingers finally closed around the bloody letter, a weak smile graced her weary features. Now, she just had to get up and return to the mansion. What she saw there was just a hallucination. Yes, it must have been the trick of light, caused by those flickering flares. Claws? No, the inhabitant was probably holding a blade or two. She entered the building without permission so, naturally, she was attacked as a trespasser.

_Or perhaps everything was my fault_, she forced her cloudy mind to think and reason, _the person did not do anything until I dropped the torch. I must have startled her. Yes, there has to be an explanation on why that person has horns. Those things were probably just ornaments. _

She could vaguely recall the person's furious snarl, filled with distress and mortification at being seen. As a composed and already well-traveled courier despite of her young age, she was used to various reactions from the recipients. Based on her experience, she could decipher people's emotions through their tones and unconscious body movements.

The courier could still see the stranger's huddled, trembling form within the shadows of the room.

Undulated fear.

The person was terrified.

_But why? I did not look threatening, did I?_

A spasm of searing pain surged through her left arm and shoulder, temporarily jolting her into wakefulness. _That's right…the stranger only lunged at me at first to grab my sleeve. I reacted out of instinct then but that was no excuse. It was within her right to attack me. I entered the perimeter without permission and struck her._

The courier's self-criticizing nature took over as she chuckled humorlessly and continued to examine her conduct. It was an incorrigible habit of hers, but she believed that by doing so she could attain perfection and absolute flawlessness as a messenger. She also had a tendency to blame herself, especially when she needed explanations about things she could not understand. It diminished over the years but she was stripped of her professional mask now, defenseless and alone in this unknown land.

Her only means of protection, the knife, was lost underground during her struggle with the enraged person. However, in spite of the state she was in now, the courier was relieved that the weapon did not injure the recipient. Such blunder would have been irreversible, marking the end of her career. No one could find out of course, but her own conscience would never pardon her action no matter the circumstances.

By violating her way of living, the courier's wandering mind would lose its peace.

She would lose her path.

_No. I will not become lost again. I must correct this mistake. _

The more she rationalized the stranger's attack, the calmer she became. She did not fear the prospect of going back to that stifling dungeon anymore. All she had to do was to remain calm and apologize for her behavior. After being forgiven, she could perhaps inquire the whereabouts of the recipient, this Miss Yui.

Strength was leaving her though. The sky was now enshrouded in graying magenta and indigo, signaling the arrival of night. The stings from her wounds ebbed away as the sensations gradually faded into ringing numbness.

Before the dulling haze coursed through her vision, she noticed a silhouette under the incorporeal shades of leaves. Hope quenched the despair she felt earlier as a soft voice drifted towards her.

_Help…_

The shadow was crouched in front of a pond, it seemed. She squinted, her breaths coming out in shallow puffs in the frigid air. The stranger was playing with something in the water, judging from the quiet splashes and light laughter. Despite of the fog cloaking her vision and the absence of light, she clearly saw the veiled gaze of this stranger landing on her.

Perhaps she was imagining things again yet, after seeing the figure's soothing smile, she stopped resisting the darkness and allowed it to take over.

There was understanding in those doe-like eyes.

That was enough for her.

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><p><strong>End of Preface<strong>: **Message from the Shadows**

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>Authors' Notes:<strong>

**Athyra:** ghikiJ and I have this idea since January, but it is only until recently that we are able to make any progress on this story at all. It is quite an experience writing a story of such genre, and naturally the characters are quite fun to develop. Well, as this is only the preface, I shall save my comments on the later chapters.

**ghikiJ:** As Athyra said, it's quite an experience writing in the horror genre. Not only that, it was also quite an experience working on a collaboration piece. This story took weeks to develop from a random set of ideas into a flowing storyline. Truth be told, "Spectre" was supposed to be a long oneshot, a simple means for us to leave our mark in this fandom, but it gradually evolved into a multi-chaptered, and multi-faceted story. I hope you enjoyed this teaser of a preface. We will upload the first chapter as soon as we can.


	2. I: Nomen Est Omen

We were very pleased with all the reviews for the Preface and we were glad that you all liked it. Seeing all those wonderful analyses really inspired us to finish this chapter as soon as we could.

We now present Chapter I.

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><p><strong>I: Nomen Est Omen<strong>

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><p>"<em>What's wrong, dear?"<em>

_Tiny hands hastily rubbed sleepy carnelian eyes, attempting to wipe away any residues of tears. The little girl brushed her untamed hair until she decided she was ready and approached the smiling woman on the couch. _

"_Nothing is wrong, mother," the little girl replied quietly, her cheeks puffed up in indignation as she climbed up and snuggled next to the chuckling woman._

"_You're still just a child sweetie, you don't have to put up a strong front all the time," the black-haired woman put the thick book she was reading on the mahogany table and angled the lamp so she could see her daughter's face properly. The little girl was expressionless, or at least she was trying to look unaffected by whatever drove her out of the comforts of her bed to search for her mother in the huge mansion. _

"_I'm not a child," she mumbled quietly, belying her words by clinging to the woman's arm. _

_The girl's mother chuckled again and stroked her hair in soothing rhythms, "I see you have your father's stubbornness…no, composure. It will help you in the long run in the future but, for now, won't you give me a smile, hmm?"_

_The girl fidgeted and hid her face in the crook of her mother's arm, determined not to expose her red face. She was pleased at the praise, or at least she thought it was. She always loved receiving compliments from her parents, especially her mother, and it always made her so giddy that she wanted to break into a silly smile. But a proper lady should not grin so uncouthly. No, she must be on her best behavior at all times so she would become a sophisticated, elegant lady like her mother. She would do everything she could so the woman would be proud of her. _

"_Smile, please? I don't want to see my daughter frown. You have such a beautiful smile."_

"_I'm not frowning," the girl peeked up from behind the sleeve and tried to smooth the crease between her eyebrows. "I-I was just wondering why you didn't…well…"_

_The woman shifted and pulled her daughter onto her lap, patting the embarrassed girl, "I am sorry for not kissing you goodnight, dear, but I thought you were asleep already. I did not want to wake you."_

"_You should just wake me…"_

"_Pardon?"_

"_Nothing," the girl puffed up her cheeks again and averted her gaze. _

_Sighing both in exasperation and affection, the woman pinched her daughter's cheek, earning an uncharacteristic squeaky yelp from the usually quiet girl. Blushing in mortification, she tried not to stare reproachfully at her mother but failed miserably. Certainly, a lady should not glare but this was too much!_

"_You're just so fun to tease, dear," the woman laughed and began to tickle the squirming girl, whose stony expression finally crumbled in fits of giggles. Even her father, the most composed person she knew, always fell under her mother's interesting methods of breaking down poker faces so of course she was no match. Twinkling laughter fitting of a child her age filled the spacious living room, harmonizing with the music performed by the peaceful silence of nighttime. _

_After the woman decided it was enough, she simply hugged her daughter close. The little girl was still giggling breathlessly, unable to resist the comforts of her mother's embrace. _

"_See, I was right. You have a wonderful smile sweetie. Smile more for me, alright?"_

"_O-Okay, if you say so mother," the girl whispered shyly. Dazed and slightly tired from the tickling, she beamed and slumped in the woman's arms. She was about to drift off to sleep when scary images flooded her mind, jolting her awake. She remembered why she came to find her mother in the first place._

"_Well, why don't you tell me what is bothering you, dear?" The woman's voice was still soft and kind, except now it had a solemn tone that would only come from a concerned parent. _

"…_I-I had a nightmare and I-I just want to… I don't want to be alone…" The girl's voice was barely discernable as she lowered her head in shame. She always looked down upon other children who constantly whined about being afraid of inane matters. She always prided herself in her unwavering composure unlike the rest of those vulnerable kids. But she was really scared, completely terrified of that monster with bloody fangs…_

"_Tell me about it, don't bottle it up," the woman chided gently._

_Under her mother's encouraging voice, the girl began to describe her nightmare the best she could. She did not know where she was, all alone in a really desolate forest that lacked the usual woodland critters she read about from those picture books. She was forced to travel through the darkness by herself, without anyone to guide or comfort her. She vaguely recalled passing a greyish garden filled with dead flowers that scarily reminded her of her mother's orchard. Her pace hastened with this renewed fear, running blindly through the foliage for some sort of exit. _

_Finally, she saw a huge mansion at the end of this superficial tunnel. She was so happy then, her dread was quelled by the promise of another living being's presence. However, after looking around the perimeter for entrance, she returned to the locked front door, lost. _

"_Then what happened?" Her mother prompted, tucking the shivering girl's head under her chin._

"_I heard some sort of scratching noise so I followed the sound," the frightened child clenched her eyes as images from her dream became more and more vivid. She found an open iron door at the side of the manor, previously obscured by a tree and thus escaped her notice. Thinking it was the only way in, she stepped into the building without hesitation. Immediately after entrance, a set of dingy stairs greeted her curious eyes. Faint scratching attracted her attention at once, hinting that someone may be down there. She ignored the prickling unease brought by the stifling, musky air permeating in the dungeons and descended step by step. Her instinct whispered warnings to her ears as she passed by bleached objects protruding from the shades of the rusting cells. Just what was waiting for her at the end of this winding path? _

_Yet she persisted out of desperation, for she was more afraid of the outside then the unknown inside. _

"_What did you find?" Her mother's voice was so light, like a feather fluttering in an autumn gale. The girl wondered if she was getting so sleepy that she could not hear properly. _

"_I found…"_

_What was it again? What was the last thing she saw before she struggled for wakefulness?_

_A pair of amused, deadened eyes._

_Sharp, bloody claws._

_Grinning fangs._

_And there was no one else. She was alone, confused and helpless to face that monster all by herself._

"_Shhhh, don't be scared, you're not alone, dear, we'll never leave you alone. I'm here."_

_She could barely feel her mother's comforting caresses, as if the woman was disappearing into thin air and leaving the girl to fend for herself._

_Don't go…please…don't leave me alone…_

"Unnghh…"

"Shh, don't be scared, I'm here."

A hand was brushing her hair so gently and protectively that the rising panic gradually died down. She mumbled something incoherent as she tried to understand where she was. She was lying on something soft and warm, a person's lap. This comforting warmth, similar to that safe feeling in her dream, draped over her like a blanket. Even though her body was begging to rest longer, her wary nature demanded that she learn her whereabouts. Groaning hoarsely, she forced her eyes to open.

Carnelian met auburn.

The stranger merely smiled at her dazed expression.

She blinked sluggishly, observing this lady in wonder.

She wore a typical dress fitting for someone from a higher class, indicated by those elaborate frills and vibrant hues. Her shoulder-length brown hair was barely visible under her pale pink bonnet. But the two colors contrasted sharply and made those chocolate strands stand out even more. She was the very image of a refined lady, enveloped in a tranquil beauty that should only belong to fairytales. Her auburn eyes were so serene and alluring like a breeze through the autumn sky.

"Shh, don't move. Go back to sleep, hm?"

The stranger's lilting voice almost lulled her back into slumber, filling her with an inexplicable sense of safety even in this unfamiliar area. The courier's lips curved in spite of herself, and she was rewarded with a peaceful smile from this fairy-like brunette.

She shifted her head in the girl's lap to try to feel more comfortable. The forest was only illuminated by the frail moonlight, like a ray of hope within darkness. Yet, her sudden movement was too much for her weary body. A sharp sting mercilessly reminded her of the gruesome gash on her shoulder, and crawling prickles whispered about the condition of those puncture wounds on her arm. Her eyes snapped open when she felt the slight weight of the feather-like letter in her gloved hand.

"No, I can't sleep now, I must-"

The pleasant brush of a silky handkerchief against her cheek interrupted her, dabbing away the dirt smudging her pale skin.

Still smiling, the brunette gently helped her sit up, mindful of the other woman's injury. It was then the latter realized her shoulder was wrapped in a long piece of fabric, its light pink already stained by her blood.

"You seem to be in a hurry to go somewhere. I know I should have gotten help to treat your injuries, but you just look so peaceful that I couldn't bring myself to disturb you. You were dozing with a small smile on your face, even," the lady looked at the courier up and down, as if to assess the latter's condition.

"Right, I need to…wait, I was…smiling?" The messenger frowned thoughtfully, unable to comprehend why she would smile about a dream like that. Come to think of it, she hadn't had any nightmares for a very long time. All those long nights were filled with dreamless sleep because she always kept her mind carefully blank, before even attempting to close her eyes.

Perhaps those locked memories were let loose from the recesses of her mind after re-experiencing fear again for the first time since the day she was truly left alone in this world. The courier pursed her lips, uncertain what to say or do next.

"Yes, you were smiling," the lady said simply, "so I thought it was better for you to nap awhile longer, since your wounds have stopped bleeding. Even now, I still think you should continue resting…"

"I can't. I must…" Must what? The courier was still too disorientated to think. All she knew was that she had a letter in her hand, and she must deliver it. It was easier to gather her thoughts if she had a goal to focus on.

"If you insist on going, I shall accompany you through the forest back to the garden," the brunette dusted her dress and stood up, twirling her parasol childishly. Although it wasn't even daybreak yet, she opened her umbrella as if to block sunlight even though the moon was the only spectator in the night sky.

The messenger blinked, nonplussed at the lady's action.

"What's the matter? Don't you have a letter to deliver, Miss Courier?" She tilted her head and elegantly pointed her index finger towards the paper.

"A-ah, yes. But how do you know that, miss-?" The injured woman used the tree as support and pulled herself up, unable to avert her gaze from the figure glowing underneath the shades of the parasol. She flustered at the brunette's silence, mortified to be caught staring.

Yet the lady did not reply. She merely spun around, her dress floating prettily at the motion.

"Let's go~"

"W-wait!" The courier hobbled until she was standing in front of the lady. "It's still dark. We should wait until the sun comes up at least."

"Hmm? Why?" The corners of the brunette's eyes crinkled in amusement.

"T-there is a monster living in that mansion!" The courier blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

Everything was coming back to her now, the pitch-black dungeon, the flickering flame of her torch and a hollow smile illuminated by the dying flare. Fear crept up the messenger's spine once again, not for herself but for the dainty, delicate lady. As a courier, she was used to the harsh conditions during her travels so running away from _that_ creature was just like fleeing from a wild animal. If she thought of the situation this way, her fear could diminish at the very least. She clenched her fists in determination, feeling the weight of her bounded shoulder as a reminder that this girl was kind enough to help her even in the dead of the night. She did not know what happened to her younger self back in the nightmare, but she will make sure that the terror she felt back then would not paralyze her again.

"Awww, are you feeling protective over me? How adorable," the brunette tilted her head and giggled behind a raised hand like a well-mannered lady.

Though her ears were red from embarrassment, the courier continued to frown severely. "I am not joking, miss. You saw my wounds. Perhaps you should stay away from the mansion for now in case the woman attacks you, thinking you're a burglar as well. Or, there is a chance that a monster lives down there- "

"You must be mistaken," smiling, the brunette walked around the anxious woman, "I know for a fact that the dungeons are quite old. Perhaps it was huge rodent - perhaps a rat, Miss Courier. Look, there is no way a monster lives in such a beautiful place, yes?"

The courier was at loss for words as she stared at the scenery before her, bewitched. The forlorn, dead forest now glowed under the faint caresses of moonlight, blessed by an evanescent cloak. Splashes of maple leaves decorated the bare branches like phantoms, enhancing the ephemeral quality of the wonderland.

Time stood still, capturing every drop of beauty onto the canvas of the night.

"See? There is nothing to be afraid of," the lady whispered with a serene smile , "I do not know what you saw but I am certain the resident of the manor is not who you think she is."

The courier nodded slowly, still captivated by the surreal magnificence of the forest. The brunette blended so immaculately with nature, creating a painting more exquisite than any of the images the messenger ever saw in her journeys.

The lady smiled at her amazement and continued her stroll through the forest path. "Hehe, wait until you see the garden! Surely the person living here can't be that terrible if the flowers are all so pretty and well-taken care of, hm?"

"_You don't look at a person based on their appearance alone, dear. I mean, look at your father. He always wears that serious expression but you know how kind he is."_

"Yes… yes, of course," the courier felt a dull ache in her heart at the thought of her wise and patient mother, "I suppose I was too tired or the resident just doesn't take too kindly to strangers. Alright, I will try my best again. You seem to know this place well. Is there any chance that you know a Miss Yui?"

The brunette tilted her head again, playing with the handle of the parasol. "I live nearby, but I only know the landscape not the people. Just between you and me, I'm a trespasser as well," her soft smile widened mischievously, "I simply cannot keep away, especially from the pond."

"Eh? Why?" The courier inwardly berated herself for this lapse in composure, but she was truly taken off guard by the answer.

Giggling, the lady twirled a strand of her hair to show her embarrassment, "There is a small turtle living in the pond just beyond those trees over there. It's just so cute, I cannot help myself~ I like playing with it~"

The courier laughed lightly for first time since she could remember.

"Hehe, I knew you can make a sound like that, miss Serious," the brunette spun the parasol as if to mirror her delight, "you look so….detached, like you're in a different world or something," she broke off into a fit of giggles, amused by something the courier did not understand.

"Is that so?" Slightly embarrassed, the messenger coughed but tried to drop her mask of professionalism. She was always alone, travelling through foreign lands under the requests of her clients to deliver certain items. She avoided prolonged contacts with other people because she saw no point in socializing, not when she rarely stayed in one place for long periods of time. Everything was just easier if she remained impartial to everything. She would not experience loss if she never gained anything. Some people have remarked how her expression was rather unwelcoming, cold even. Her face did not remain placid on purpose though, as it was just the way she held herself.

"_Smile for me, dear."_

But her mother wasn't here anymore. There was no need to smile anymore.

However, she quite enjoyed the companionship of this quirky lady, even though they just met. She decided that she could afford to lower her barriers around the brunette, temporarily at least. She felt like she was experiencing a very long dream, where all the events seemed so disconnected and perplexing that trying to make sense of everything was futile.

If it weren't for her bandaged shoulder, the messenger would have thought that she simply dreamt about what happened inside the mansion. Her wounds relentlessly reminded her that she must rationalize these peculiar series of events.

Perhaps the thing she encountered was just a creature from her nightmares, the courier told herself firmly. She ignored the rational side of her mind arguing that her knife was lost in the dungeons because _someone_ slapped it away, and she had smashed a piece of wood against _someone_'s head. Everything had been an illusion, a product of her weary mind. It wasn't difficult to put this matter aside, for now at least. All the previous terror was easily washed away by this simple conversation between two ordinary women.

"Mhmm~ So, anyways, I'd be happy if you can keep this a secret~" The lady clasped her hands beseechingly, complete with a cute smile.

"Alright, it's not like you mean harm or anything," the courier agreed amiably.

"Hehe~"

The two walked through the garden in amiable silence, lost in their respective thoughts or so the courier assumed. The brunette's face was blocked by her parasol but the calm air around her seemed to suggest she was thinking about something. Years of experience told the messenger that it was the kind of quietness one would have during bouts of nostalgia. But what could the lady be reminiscing about?

It was none of the courier's business though. The injured woman wanted to rotate her stiff shoulder or just move it to get rid of the soreness somehow. The wrapping was starting to feel rather itchy and raw against her open wounds because of the dried blood caked around the area of contact. With each step she took, no matter how careful it was, the movement jostled her injuries enough that she had to bite her lips from hissing. She did not want the other girl to notice her discomfort but her tense silence attracted brunette's attention.

She turned towards the courier with a quizzical glint in her auburn orbs.

"What's the matter?"

"Ah, it's nothing."

"Hmm~ you seem to be uncomfortable with your hair."

"A-ah, it's just that I'm not used to having my hair down," the courier brushed those lustrous black strands self-consciously. Imagination or not, she still lost her hair tie during her struggle with _someone_.

"Is that so?" The brunette tapped her cheek thoughtfully, "oh I know! Could you hold out your hand?" When the courier complied, an ochre ribbon was carefully deposited in her gloved palm.

"This is all I have but perhaps you can use it?"

"Thank you," the courier accepted the worn ribbon gratefully and tied her long hair in its usual high ponytail. Without the weight of those lengthy tresses against her neck, she felt freer and bolder as if she could overcome anything. She was not just some count's daughter having her hair styled prettily for potential suitors, not anymore.

No, she was a courier, and she was proud of it.

"I see. You love your job don't you? Would you mind telling me a bit of your experiences?"

The black-haired woman chuckled uneasily, embarrassed to have spoken her thoughts aloud. She did not really want to talk about her past but she could not refuse the lady's polite request, not after seeing such an earnest glint in those round orbs.

"When I deemed myself ready, I began to work for this small company, introduced to me by an acquaintance," the courier held up her glove, showing the bird insignia. "To me, a letter isn't just a piece of paper. No, it doesn't matter what the item is, whether it is a box of books, a ring or even just a pretty feather. All I see is the special connection between the sender and the receiver, formed through the item requested to be delivered. That's why I will do everything I can to make sure the sender's feelings are conveyed."

"How wonderful!" The brunette looked pleased, "You will deliver anything?"

"Yes. Everything has a value, an indescribable sentiment etched in it. I mean," the courier pulled her bag, shaking her head, "One time I even delivered a dried fish to a stray cat on behalf of a little girl who was too shy to approach the feline on her own."

"That's very nice of you! The girl must be happy."

The black-haired woman resisted the urge to close her eyes and just immerse her consciousness in this lady's melodious laughter. The sound made her feel like a child, safe in her parents' embrace, so innocent and so blissfully ignorant.

"In that case, you truly understand then, that you shouldn't judge a person by their appearance."

The courier had to shake her head to stop the lady's image from superimposing on her mother's blurry face. How silly, the brunette appeared to be around her age though her mature aura spoke volumes of everything she must have experienced.

"No matter what you see, just remember that someone is waiting to read that letter."

Nodding, the courier felt an even stronger kinship towards the lady, who spoke as if she understood her feelings. The brunette's strange yet wise-sounding words and her soft tone strengthened the black-haired woman's resolve to brave the mansion again.

"Although, you don't' have to force yourself to deliver the letter just yet if the recipient is not ready to accept it, yes?"

The messenger swallowed, successfully blocking her memories. "What if it's something urgent? Well, it's unstamped but-"

"It appears to be a simple correspondence between two people, people who are close," the brunette spun her parasol again. "And so, it's up to the recipient to decide when to take in the emotions inscribed in the letter, yes?"

Touched, the courier tried to convey how much the lady's words cheered her up. It was as if the brunette could read her thoughts and encouraged her through their shared sentiments. The black-haired woman inwardly cursed her inability to be expressive due to years of being aloof and always keeping a professional distance with other people.

The lady noticed her dilemma but she only smiled.

"Look, we are here."

The courier blinked, mildly surprised that they already arrived at their destination. Did they not just leave the garden or did she overestimate the distance between the two places?

Even though everything was still shrouded in twilight, the mansion simply appeared to be sleeping, like a stable presence of a regal grandfather. She walked ahead of the brunette and swallowed in anticipation as she took in the vines that crawled over the ancient walls. The dusty window panes still looked the same as they did earlier, yet she only felt pangs of sorrow at how forgotten the manor looked.

_This is it. I need to confront whoever it was who attacked me. A rodent, maybe, or just a person surprised and suspicious of my unannounced visit. No matter, the lady is right. I will try to talk to that person and see if I can deliver the letter_._ Then, I should go back to the town_.

The black-haired woman winced when her numb wounds pulsated in reminder of her condition. _I don't think the bleeding has completely stopped… Oh, how rude of me. I never thanked the lady for her help! And I didn't introduce myself either._

"My apologies," the courier fixed the strap on her good shoulder, staring at the ground self-consciously, "My name is Azusa. What is your name?"

She waited patiently for an answer, wondering if her self-introduction was too late or too brusque. Unable to take the awkward silence any longer, she turned around with a nervous frown.

She blinked slowly as a chilling gale dragged its claws up her spine.

The brunette was gone.

And there were no footprints in the muddy path.

* * *

><p>The silence of the mansion was interrupted by the echoing claps of wooden doors against stone walls. Even the perpetual ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was drowned by the frantic cracks that came from the mansion's kitchen.<p>

It was as if a wild animal was let loose in this once grand place.

Sharp nails rasped against hard oak as the Spectre dug through the empty cupboards in search of sustenance. Her hands still carried the stain of the courier's blood and its scent drove a wild hunger within her that she could not control. Her mouth frothed as she vainly skimmed her hands inside empty cabinets and pantries. She knew there was nothing in those cabinets yet she still violently searched.

She was so hungry…

The Spectre snarled and threw a cupboard's door closed. Saliva dripped from her open mouth as her unyielding eyes stared at the stone floor. Her body shook and her stomach roared its complaint. How long had it been since she last ate? How long had it been since she last nurtured her hunger? The Spectre could not remember. All she ever knew in this place was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway or the rhythmic drips of water in the dungeon, but those did not dictate time for her. They were merely annoying clicks and taps, sources of sound in this desolate shelter.

_Tick, tock._

She rammed her head against a cabinet and felt the impact through her horns and her skull. She groaned as she slowly slid down on the floor, pained and starving.

_So hungry…_

She looked at her bloodied hands. She could smell the tang and the salt from the stains, and it made her salivate even more. Unthinking, the Spectre licked her hand and felt a peculiar ecstasy at the taste of human blood. She savored the taste and licked her hand again and again until it was clean. The flavor satiated her tongue and made her relish a sense she had inhibited for a long time, but it did nothing to satisfy her stomach.

She needed something that could fill her hunger.

_Tick, tock._

The Spectre sat on the floor and leaned against the kitchen wall, licking her lips to catch whatever was left of the taste of blood. She stared at the room's ceiling as her half-sane mind took her back to when this place smelled of freshly baked breads and pastries. Her family's cook certainly enjoyed preparing food for them and the kitchen was never without the aroma of finely prepared cuisine. She and her sister also enjoyed spending time in the kitchen, preparing treats.

None of those existed now. Cobwebs have accumulated in the corners of the ceiling and the cabinets. Dust thickly covered the preparation table and knife lines were now long buried underneath the filth. There were no more smells of delicious food. There were just the musk of aging wood and fantasies of lost dreams.

The Spectre swallowed her saliva and squeezed her eyes closed. If she erased the images of debilitated walls and ceilings, she could picture a kitchen in which golden rays of the sun casted a warm glow over cooling pies and loaves of bread.

"_Is it almost ready, Sister?"_

"_Yes, just a bit longer, okay?"_

"_It smells wonderful!"_

"_Why don't you help me with the stew while you wait, hm? Time will pass faster that way."_

"_Kay~"_

Happy giggles of young girls passed through the Spectre's ears. Wonderful smiles and laughter fluttered in her mind like whimsical butterflies, flying gracefully and yet impossible to catch. She squeezed her eyelids together even more, unwilling to lose precious memories that were drifting away from her.

_Please, don't go…_

Unfortunately, as she reminisced on such happy times, she also inevitably recalled the days that shattered her picturesque childhood.

"_How are you feeling, Sister?"_

"_I-I'm okay. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, that's all."_

"…"

"_Oh, don't give me that face. Come, the pie is probably cool enough. Let's eat!"_

_Stop…_

_No._

_Don't remember._

_Don't go there._

_Please…_

But she knew that the more she ran, the faster the phantoms caught up with her.

The Spectre gripped her dress and trembled as she felt the familiar fear that came to her whenever her living nightmares slowly crept and overshadowed her once perfect happiness. A chill kissed her bare toes and licked up her thin legs. It then lapped at her spine as she quivered helplessly. She let out of a terrified gasp as the coldness touched her neck and claimed her psyche.

She tried to fight it, biting her tongue and digging her fangs in the tender flesh. Pain seemed to be the only sensation that could fight her demons, and yet it still proved ineffective. The Spectre clenched her fists and dug her claws into her palms until they bled. _More pain…_ _yes, more, let me feel it._

_Let me… feel…_

"_Listen! Father said he got you some medicine!"_

"_R-really?"_

"_Yes! I'm sure it'll help your cold so you wouldn't have to be cooped up inside the house all the time."_

"_I sure hope so!"_

"_Oh, and here, I got you some berries."_

"_Thank you, Sister."_

_Don't go any further._

_I beg you._

But the phantoms of her mind grinned at her in mockery the more she implored their mercy.

"No!" The Spectre shrieked and pushed herself away from the cabinet door with her wounded hands. Images of worried faces and tears flooded her, and pictures of insanity and blood stabbed her festering being as if there was still a part of her that remained whole after years of mental torment. Driven over the edge, the Spectre rammed her head against the hardwood table's leg across from where she sat. The wood creaked and splintered against her inhuman horns as she slammed herself against it again and again until her brain numbed.

"_I… might go soon."_

"_You're not going anywhere. Don't talk like that. You'll always be here with me, 'kay?"_

"_I want to stay with you."_

"_Me too, so stay. Don't go anywhere."_

"_O-okay."_

Then the sweet smile vanished. The warm overcast dulled over the pretty face of an angel who watched over her.

It was replaced by a crazed grin.

"_I killed them for you..."_

The Spectre roared in fury and turned her rage towards the empty cabinet that stood behind her as if it was a demon in disguise. The thinner timber that served as its door shattered against the Spectre's blow, sending splinters all over the kitchen floor. She growled with her fangs bared, claws extended, and hand scratched raw by the wood.

Her hand was bloody once again.

It terrified her.

The girl within the Spectre shook, weakened, while the abomination sneered in mirth, triumphant. She had always been no match against it.

The Spectre then suddenly stilled, her eyes shaded by her unruly bangs. As if possessed, she dropped her hand to her side and whispered emotionlessly into the empty space, "I need to feed…"

She licked her hand and tasted her own blood before wetting her lips as she listened. Only silence and the perpetual ticking of the grandfather clock answered her, but the Spectre could hear a faint sound that deviated from the ticking rhythm. It was a soft pitter-patter on the stone, so quiet that even the slightest rustle of the Spectre's dress drowned its existence.

But it was alive.

It was food.

The Spectre remained still, biding her time and waiting for the faint steps to draw close enough for her strike. Minutes dragged by and yet the Spectre did not move. Instinct told her not to make any sound. She trained her eyes to the corner and saw a shadow. Predator and prey waited on each other but it was the prey that inevitably lost the battle of wills and patience.

A rat jumped out from its hiding place, triggering the Spectre's coiled muscles to unfurl. The pounce was instantaneous; the Spectre used what energy remained in her unfed body to make sure that she caught her prey. The rodent struggled against her sharp claws. It was large enough to pass for a cat and it had no qualms using its overgrown fangs to fight for its life. However, it was under the mercy of a hungry fiend. The Spectre did not even wait for the rat to die from the punctures her claws inflicted on its flesh, she just snarled and bit its belly, spilling blood on the kitchen floor.

"_How is it?"_

"_It's yummy, Sister! Thank you~"_

"_I'm glad…"_

The Spectre's growling did not cease as she feasted on the dead rodent's innards. Gurgling sounds escaped her mouth as she bit into warm flesh, chewed moist entrails, and swallowed. Crunching noises broke the otherwise silent atmosphere as she crushed thin and fragile bones with her fangs.

However, as she filled her stomach, the Spectre felt like she lost more of herself with every bite she ingested. But the pangs of hunger were so strong. The pleasure of feeding was so overwhelming.

Her eyes glazed over with rapture.

_It's really good…_

_So good…_

Tears dripped from her cheeks as she thought of the taste of rat flesh on her tongue.

_What have you become?_

_What… are you?_

The rat's head and tail, the only parts that remained of it after the Spectre finished feeding, fell on the kitchen floor. The Spectre coughed, suddenly disgusted of her meal, and proceeded to wipe her mouth, smearing her face further with rat fluids. Torn between the satisfied animal and the repulsed girl, the Spectre let out a strange whimper, a sound between a crazed chuckle and a helpless sob.

_Why can't I be just one or the other?_

A presence suddenly came to her attention. Was the Spectre so lost in her personal hell that she did not sense an intruder? She looked over her shoulder just in time to hear the person uneasily gulping. The Spectre's gaze fell on the sight of the very same courier who dared open the door of her prison.

Under the sun's first rays peeking from the kitchen's windows, stained umber met clear carnelian.

The dark-haired woman held the Spectre's gaze with a resolute determination that shined through the obvious expression of revulsion and fear. However, despite her burning doggedness, the courier was the one who broke eye-contact as if she wanted to avoid enraging a beast.

The rat's remains suddenly forgotten, the Spectre turned her body and slowly stood up, blocking one of the windows' light, and casting a menacing shadow over the courier. "You came back…" She said curiously, "Did I not scare you enough?"

"I said I need to deliver a letter, and that's what I'll do." The courier said, her voice sounding more immovable than her outward bearing.

The Spectre giggled tauntingly as she licked her fingers, "Even after what you just saw, mailwoman?"

The courier gulped audibly, "Yes. Even after that—"

"I haven't eaten for a long time." The Spectre interrupted and brought her fingers to the corner of her mouth, wiping the last stains of red that lingered. She watched the courier flinch at the display and tighten her hand's grip on the strap of her bag. The Beast chuckled at the reaction she received. She could just smell the fear from this woman. She could smell apprehension, the cold sweat that dripped down her cheek. But, most importantly, the Spectre could smell blood on her guest.

"I'm still hungry…" the fiend continued, "But there's no food here. What to do?"

The Spectre smiled maliciously.

_Run…_

_Save yourself!_

Languidly, the beast began to approach the messenger with a still, porcelain-like smile on her face.

"Don't come any closer," the courier warned, eyes blazing.

The Spectre stopped, and then giggled when she saw the nervous tension on the black-haired woman's cheek. She could tell that if the courier hadn't been clenching her jaw this entire time, her teeth would have been chattering.

…like a mirthful skull.

They stared at each other, gauging the air and waiting for each other to break the ominous tension.

And just like the rat, it was the trespassing messenger who faltered, stepping backwards as an instinctual response.

A fatal mistake.

The horned monster charged without warning, using the table as leverage and sending it a couple of feet away. Instead of letting panic and fear completely take over, the courier gritted her teeth and used her body weight to swing her heavy bag against the Spectre like a club. The impact sent the fiend toppling against the kitchen cabinets with a dull thud.

"Can't you just sit still?" The courier hissed then cursed when she heard the Spectre snarl. The Abomination shook her head, disoriented by the blow and the impact of her head against the cabinet. She gripped her head as she stood, using the wall for support.

"You can understand me, right?" The messenger raised her voice, determined to be heard, "I know I entered without permission but—"

The beast's amused chuckle and growls were the only response the courier received.

"Would you not listen?"

The monster snarled. Drunk with the odor of blood, she charged, drooling at the promise of food.

The ponytailed woman wisely turned and ran out into the hallway while the Spectre gave chase. The sudden movements and the courier's retaliation only fed the beast's urge dig her fangs into the mailwoman's flesh. Her hunger returned and it clawed at her, urging her to catch the person foolish enough to return after she managed to escape.

The Spectre poured energy she gained from her meager snack into her legs, an investment for the promise of a larger meal. Turning the corner, predator and prey continued their sprint and burst into the manor's large dining hall. The courier used one of the room's large double doors to break her run and make a sharp turn so that she could dash towards the door on the other side of the dining room. Without anything to use for traction, the Spectre was forced to leap onto the grand dining table and use the claws on all her limbs to break her speed.

Without wasting another moment, she dug her claws for footing and shot after her prey once again. However, she was met by an ornament thrown at her head. The angel figurine was smashed against the beast's horns and broke into pieces. Shaking her head to get rid of the shards and plaster dust, the Spectre felt a warm liquid drip down her temple.

"Stop it!" The courier shouted when she noticed that her pursuer halted, "Why do you do this?"

Yet the Spectre merely grinned, the reddish light that seeped through the dining hall's curtains made the blood flowing down her temple glisten with a sinister sheen.

"Don't you hear me?" The messenger tried again in vain.

The Spectre chuckled feverishly as the muscles on all four of her limbs coiled then sprung, renewing the chase. However, the moment she took her third step, the beast found a chair haphazardly thrown into her path, tripping her and sending her onto the ground with large fragments of wood. She yelped because of the sharp pain that bolted from her shins and the impact of her shoulder on the hard floor. That did not stop her though and within moments, she was able to untangle herself from the broken chair.

Standing up from where she fell, she saw a long wisp of black hair turn around the corner from the exit of dining hall.

Growling, the Spectre resumed chase but as she followed the courier down the winding passages that led to the grand foyer, she felt her legs weakening and her already crazed mind hazing. She had been starved for way too long, and blows to her head did nothing to clear her sight. Yet she pressed on even though she found the courier outrunning her. Hunger was her only fuel.

The black-haired woman ran up the large staircase that led to the second floor of the manor. Yet, instead of continuing on and putting more space between herself and her pursuer, the courier stopped halfway up. Panting, she turned around and faced the horned abomination at the base of the stairs.

She yelled, "Let's stop this chase already!"

The Spectre paused and then, after a few moments of observation, she resumed climbing the stairs calmly, her gait belying a strange weakness to her otherwise frightening presence. She held the courier's eyes with her own, "But you're the one who ran. Of course I'll follow you."

"You charged! A-and… you're dangerous."

Intrigued that the woman barely made a movement as she ascended the stairs, the Spectre said, "You know that, yet you still returned."

"I promised I'll deliver the letter—no, don't take another step! Stay where you are!" The black-haired woman barked as she dug one of her hands into her coat's pockets.

The Spectre smiled softly and stopped.

The courier became silent. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek as she fisted something in her pocket.

"This is my manor…" The Spectre said while smiling, "Can I not ascend my own stairs?"

"Stay there or—"

The monster's smile vanished in an instant, "Or what?" The Spectre did not wait for an answer. Food did not have the right to speak back to her. This woman's organs would just end up littering the red carpet of this room anyway. What was the use of talking?

The beast merely leaped at her prey.

The courier quickly turned to run once again, but the Spectre had already closed a hand around her boot. The fiend pulled her prey's legs, causing the courier to painfully stumble on the stair's steps the moment she lost her balance. Ignoring the woman's cries, the horned monster pinned her against the hard edges of the manor's wooden gradation, only to see a glint of metal.

With a pained cry, the courier managed to pull her knife from her pocket as she was taken down on the stairs. She now fiercely held it and tried to stab the monster. Taken aback, the Spectre hesitated in her actions and stumbled slightly, giving the black-haired woman the leeway to actually do damage.

Had she not intercepted the sharp blade with her palm, she would have been stabbed between her collarbones.

Enraged, the Spectre closed her impaled hand around the knife and painfully pried it away from the courier's slick grip with a beastly snarl. Holding the trespasser down with a clawed hand around her neck, the abomination pricked the knife's handle with her fangs and extracted it from her pierced palm. Angered and wounded, the horned monster ignored the pulsing agony of her stab wound weeping of blood, and took the knife from her mouth and tossed it into the abyssal darkness of the manor's shadowy corridors.

She saw the courier's eyes widen in horror after her only means of protection was thrown so far away from her reach. But her frozen condition merely lasted moments before she resumed her struggle against the Spectre's hold. The beast, livid and hungry, growled audibly and caught her hands so the courier wouldn't be able to throw any more blows at her. The woman continued to fight back, forcing the Spectre to shove her further against hard, jagged surface.

The woman hissed, "Let me go!" But sharpness of her eyes dulled because of the pain.

"Let you go…?" The Spectre repeated, "…when I just caught you?" She chuckled darkly. "That's not very fair. You've proven yourself hard to catch, Little Mouse."

The courier jerked at the insult, forgetting that her hands were trapped by the Spectre's. The abomination barely flinched at the potential blow, and leaned down until she was centimeters away from the courier's face. She wanted to learn the face of the person who had the guts to enter her manor, not only once but twice, all for the sake of a letter that could not mean anything to her anymore.

"You're pretty." The Spectre observed and whispered when the courier remained silent despite the close proximity. "And you smell really nice…" Certainly, the courier smelled of the outside world, of tree bark and grass, of earth and sky, and of sunlight.

She also smelled of blood, fear, and a sorrow that seduced the Spectre even more.

The beast lowered her head and nuzzled the courier's neck, "…yes, you smell really good." She murmured against her skin. Ignoring the persistent jerks trying to push her off and the pulsing pain of her punctured left hand, the Spectre stilled where she was, taking pleasure at the scent of another living being, and allowed her hunger take over. She licked the woman's neck and tasted the salt of courier's sweat. "So warm too… I wonder how you taste like."

"Stop it! Get off!" Out of desperation, the woman hit her head against the Spectre's just to remove the monster's lips away from her neck. She groaned when her cranium collided with one of the Spectre's horns.

The fiend pulled back a bit and gazed at the woman's face once again with a simple, joyful-looking smile on her bloody face. She watched the woman's wide eyes observe her in fear as she shifted. Crossing the courier's wrists, the Spectre held both of her captive's hands in her pierced palm, pinning them against the woman's torso. Her smile morphed into something more threatening as she squeezed the courier's wrists.

Brilliant crimson oozed out from the wound on the Spectre's hand.

With one of her hands free, the Spectre shifted her attention to the source of the alluring scent of blood not her own. She glanced at the courier's left shoulder and found that it was bound to keep the wound beneath from bleeding. The cloth was dirty and stained in that seductive maroon, so much that the sight of it intensified the Spectre's bloodlust. Like a hungry animal, she licked the blood-soaked fabric and tasted the delicious liquid once again.

"So sweet..." The Spectre uttered with amusement and went on to loosen the cloth from the courier's shoulder. Dropping the wrapping to the side, she then used her claws to pry the woman's clothes apart, giving her more access to the reddened flesh underneath. She felt the courier struggle to free her hands but the Spectre paid her no mind despite the pain of her injured hand. She was far too enticed by the sight of blood-stained skin. It provided a sharp contrast to the courier's true skin tone. Elated, the Spectre lapped at the scarlet liquid around the wound she inflicted on the woman just last night, and delighted at the taste.

"Do you like to eat sweet things, Little Mouse?"

She then dragged her tongue across wound itself, a deep gash created by her own claws.

The woman hissed at the sting and tried to hit the Spectre with her injured shoulder in spite of the pain, desperately trying to get free. Once again, the Spectre disregarded the courier's thrashing and placed her mouth over the wound to suck on the blood that seeped out. The warmth of her mouth and the suction stung her victim even more, forcing her to cry out in pain. But the courier renewed her struggle and started kicking from beneath the Spectre, and as a result, made the beast graze her fangs against the already enflamed skin.

"A-ah! N-No! S-top it!" The courier's eyes were already wet from the agony and terror as she bit her lower lip to bare the pain.

The Spectre chuckled forebodingly, "If only you kept still then that would not have happened. Perhaps I should just tear out your throat so you would stop struggling, hm?"

"Y-you… monster!"

The Spectre's smile flattened and she became silent. Her amusement disappeared but the hunger remained. "I am a monster, aren't I?" She started, leering at the courier's carnelian eyes, "And, monsters… don't play with their food. Alright then…"She licked the courier's wound one last time.

A breathless whisper brushed against the courier's ear.

"No more games, Sweet Stranger."

The Spectre's rough tongue grazed the messenger's gaping wound before large, razor-sharp fangs penetrated her prey's already broken skin, sinking into throbbing flesh.

She was not after taste anymore. She was after chunks of flesh.

The courier screamed.

The beast felt a violent burst of desperation underneath her as she bit deeper into her victim. The courier writhed in agony, screaming and thrashing against her attacker, frantically trying to free herself from the monster's grip.

Just like the rat she ate earlier.

However, the struggles escalated. The courier's hisses grew more severe and her body's movements became stronger due to adrenaline. Before the Spectre could pin her down again, the black-haired woman's boot collided with her stomach. The courier had folded one of her legs underneath the horned creature and started a series of desperate kicks. The bolt of pain that shot up from her abdomen loosened her hold on the courier's arms.

Furious, the Fiend growled and bit down harder.

A strangled cry.

Another heave.

One last kick.

The Spectre was finally torn away from her prey and landed on the base of the stairs after a series of loud, painful thuds.

The courier panted and frantically pulled her clothes to cover herself. She pressed her gloved hand tightly against the excruciating wound to stop the bleeding.

On the floor, the Spectre shifted and groaned.

"_Did you do a bad thing again, Sister?"_

"_What makes you say that?"_

"_Father doesn't look very pleased."_

"_Oh, he's just tired, I'm sure."_

"_Truly?"_

"_Yes!"_

"…_you're a bad liar, you know?"_

"_Ehe~"_

Though in pain, the Spectre pushed herself up from the hard stone floor, feeling her bone creaking as she did so. She was still on all fours when tears began to fall and sobs started to shake her frame. She did not weep because of the pain but because of the realization of what she almost did. She almost killed that woman, didn't she? She almost fed on that woman. She lost herself again. She lost control again. She almost killed again.

The Spectre trembled and began to cry openly where she knelt.

"I'm sorry…" She choked out, hoping the courier could hear her, and hugged herself. "I'm so sorry."

She looked up at the woman who still sat on the staircase. "Y-You should l-leave this place. I… I don't want to do that again. I…I'm a m-monster! Please!"

The Spectre's eyes were now free of malice and full of fear. She feared for herself. Just how long would she be able to stay? She also feared for the woman she attacked. The courier was bleeding and it was because of her. It was her fault.

She did all of those horrendous things.

She wished to hide her tears in her hands but when she glanced at them, she trembled at how stained they were. The Spectre then felt something warm flow down her cheek, followed by a sharp sting on her forehead. What happened this time? Lifting her left hand to touch her throbbing forehead, she then saw a hole in the middle of her palm. Her fingers quivered, her pupils constricted, and her face paled. What had she done now? Why were her hands always so red? Why was she always so dirty whenever she woke? The Spectre closed her eyes and wept. Her tears dripped down her chin, taking with it the blood on her cheek and lips, and rained on her upheld hands before she covered her face with them.

Tears turned crimson dripped from between her fingers and painted scarlet lines down her arm.

"Please leave… and don't come back." She begged. "Don't… ever come back."

"You…" The courier tried to speak between hoarse gasps but she could not. She did not know the words to say as her mind still swam due to the excruciating pain.

"Please hurry… i-it might come back."

"You…?" The messenger repeated, still unable to find the right words to utter due to her confused and chaotic thoughts.

The Spectre nodded her head but did not remove her face from her hands. She spoke, her voice muffled by the palms of her hands, "I-I'm so hungry… I didn't—I could not … I didn't mean— what I did. I'm so sorry!"

When she was only met by silence, the Spectre thought that the courier did not hear her and looked up with tears streaming down her face. The black-haired woman was staring but there was no other emotion in those carnelian eyes but fright and disbelief. It was understandable, the Spectre thought, as she pressed her lips together in a thin line and stared at the droplets of blood that now tarnished the hardwood steps of the stairs. She could not expect this stranger to believe her.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

Eyes blank, the Spectre followed the dotted trail of blood down the stairs, and with each drop of crimson she saw, clear tears of anguish fell onto her lap, darkening the already dirty fabric of her dress.

Seconds flew by.

Then minutes.

The grandfather clock suddenly chimed from deep within the mansion's interior, invisible but omnipresent.

The sound of jerky hisses and clumsy rummaging returned the Spectre's attention into the world of motion, or reality. Returning her umber eyes to the courier on the stairs, she saw that the injured woman had buried her gloved hand in the satchel she faithfully carried around her shoulder. There was an agonized grimace on the courier's face, sweat beading and rolling down her jaw but she stubbornly continued to search.

The Spectre opened her mouth to speak but no words came.

All the horned woman could do was gape and watch the courier grit her teeth as she attempted to stand. Fearful for the severely wounded woman, the Spectre lifted a heavy and uncertain hand in an attempt to stop the courier from moving. The black-haired woman might fall down the stairs.

And yet wobbly footsteps slowly made their descent.

Nervous but frozen, the umber-eyed woman could only watch. What should she do? What could she do?

Her mind screamed.

_Don't come closer._

_Stop..._

But the footsteps continued to slowly go down the steps, graceless yet so full of fortitude.

_Tick, tock._

A hiss.

More footsteps.

The courier finally dropped herself on the second lowest step of the stairs and winced, "That was a nasty bite…"

The Spectre's eyes widened and felt guiltier when she saw the woman squint her eyes in pain. "I-I…" She could not even finish her sentence before she found a biscuit held in front of her face.

"If this stops you from doing that again, take it," the courier said, her face contorted in agony.

"But I…"

"You're hungry, aren't you?" The woman interrupted.

"Y-yes, but…"

"Take it."

The Spectre extended her bloody hands towards the pale biscuit and took it. However, before she could even speak of her gratefulness, the ponytailed woman swayed.

"The blood isn't stopping!" Even though every fiber of her being told her not to do so, the Spectre subconsciously moved forward to the catch the courier before she fell from the steps.

Firmly, the woman held the Spectre's shoulder and steadied herself back onto the steps, "Eat it before you try to eat me again."

The Spectre knelt in front of the courier and looked from the biscuit, to carnelian eyes, and back. Torn between wanting to help, the need to feed, and deeply imbedded apprehension, the Spectre finally took the woman's advice.

It just might be a bit safer for them both.

She bit into the crispy, baked wafer, and chewed. The sweetness of the starch on her tongue was enough to make tears flow once again. She had never tasted anything so delicious.

She smiled gratefully as she tried to wipe away her tears, "Thank you."

But before she could raise her palm to clear her eyes' blurry vision, the Spectre felt the courier's unconscious form fall on her.

* * *

><p>Clatter clunk clatter.<p>

"_No please, don't take them away!"_

Scratch scratch scratch.

"_Where are you taking them? Please let me see them-"_

Clack crack clack

"_Why won't you say something?"_

A deep sigh.

"_There's nothing left to see. It'd be best to give them a proper burial as soon as possible."_

"_No no no no-!"_

Mouth opened in a soundless scream, Azusa stared blankly at the ceiling and listened to the pounding of her very much alive heart disrupting the silence of her world. She thought that dream about her mother would be the last bout of nostalgia she would have for a long time. Why was it that she could still hear her parents' bodies being carried away by the carriage?

Clink, scratch, a quiet sigh.

Azusa blinked slowly, realizing that she wasn't imagining things. She turned her head towards the source of noise and spotted an unfamiliar figure rummaging her bag.

"What are you-"

The courier's first instinct was to stop the stranger from touching her precious satchel. However, when she tried to sit up, a molten pain seized her shoulder like a beast's claws. A strangled whimper left her throat, her eyes screwed up in attempts to block out the stabs of pain. Shaking in agony, she clutched at her shoulder and twisted her body.

A loud clatter made her body jerk involuntarily. A breathless gasp was all she could muster before she fell off wherever she was lying on and landed onto the carpet with an inaudible thud. She hissed and curled up, her stiff gloves dampening at the tips as she pressed harder against her wound.

"Y-you s-shouldn't move. I t-tried my best with, um, I was just…"

Azusa panted erratically and opened her eyes to try to see who spoke in such a timid voice. The moment her carnelian eyes rested upon the crouched figure in front of her bag, everything came rushing back to her in one beat of her heart.

After the lady's abrupt disappearance, Azusa just stood there in the middle of the muddy road and stared into space for a few moments. Unable to figure out the mystery, she decided to go ahead with her quest. Even though she was wary about entering through the dungeons again, she gathered all the courage she received from the lady's words and took careful steps into the darkness below. She brought a bigger branch this time, thinking that both the flare and the wood could be used as a weapon in place of the knife she lost.

Yet nothing awaited her at the end of the meandering pathway. The ominous absence of the creature made her sigh in relief and clench her fist at the same time. Should she be glad or worried? Shaking her head, she moved the flame towards the iron door and grimaced when she spotted dark spot dotting the rusting surface. Gulping, she raised the light to further illuminate the room, revealing a bleached skull. Its frames were still hidden by the shades, but Azusa did not wish to stare at the forgotten corpse any longer than necessary. Just before she averted her gaze, she noticed her knife near the dislocated jaw, the blade's tip barely touching the misshapen bone. Cold sweat trickled down her neck as she walked towards the skull without looking at it. She shivered unconsciously when she bent down to retrieve her weapon, as if she had intruded an area even more forbidding than the dungeon itself. Burned by the frigid dead air, Azusa quickly backed out of the room.

The courier began to look around the place, uncertain what her next step should be. She was too focused on discerning the creature's whereabouts that she almost missed a set of stairs leading up from the dungeons. Blinking curiously, she followed the stone steps up with one hand clenched around the flame and the other fisting the unsheathed knife in her pocket. The mansion's interior was just as dark as the dungeon and the emptiness of the halls further increased Azusa's unease. However, she was not given any time to explore or even observe the wall hangings and various ornaments. Loud scraping noises instantly caught her attention and made her swerve towards the noise in hurried but careful steps. She quickened her pace as the scratching of wood was replaced by the clatter of something collapsing.

When she turned corner, her eyes immediately trained onto the crouched figure in what appeared to be a kitchen. Azusa cautiously set down the flare, making sure her presence wasn't noticed by the horned woman. The courier did not want to imagine what the other woman could be doing but she could not block out the disturbing squelches of ripping flesh and dying screeches of the struggling rat. Even then, Azusa remained calm and waited patiently for the right moment to alert the feeding creature of her arrival.

Everything became a blur afterwards. She ran and ran as terror gripped her like the time in the dungeons. All of those meticulously contemplated reasons fell from her panicking mind as she turned corners and threw the first thing she grabbed. She could not see this horned woman as anything other than what she was, a vicious predator lusting after her blood. Survival instinct took over when her attempts to speak to the beast failed. Azusa fought back with everything she had, using the knife to try to get the creature off her.

Then there was only pain.

Afterwards, she remembered struggling to help a sobbing woman by giving her food, but what happened after that?

Right now, Azusa was faced with this predicament before her eyes. She could only see two faces, two very different visages that were distorting and merging.

The shadowy monster baring its fangs, with such a hungry gleam in its glazed eyes.

The distressed creature crying and apologizing profusely, with such genuine remorse in its weary eyes.

Which one was it now?

Strong sunlight entered the dim living room, enveloping the place in an elusive peace that coaxed Azusa to drop her guard. Everything became visible to her widening eyes, _everything_, in great details. The matted carpet floor, antique furniture, dusty ornaments, tragically forgotten paintings on the walls, and this young woman.

Young woman?

She had uneven brown tresses, where one side was silky long while the other side appeared to be chopped off impulsively so it barely reached her shoulder. A pair of small but sharp horns protruded on her head and one of them was broken, displaying its jagged edges menacingly under the sun. One side of her face was covered in maroon, though the wound at her temple seemed to have stopped bleeding already. Her lavender dress was tattered and faded, caked with grime and dried blood. Thin and pale arms stood out against the grey hues of her clothes, and the patched scales on the exposed parts of her legs glittered almost eerily under the bright light.

Under Azusa's scrutiny, the woman hid her hands out of view but the courier had seen them clearly. Those slim, artistic fingers marred by the sharp claws or nails were wrapped around the courier before, attempting to squeeze the life out of her. Those claws, still covered in dark maroon, once dug into her skin to relish in her cries for mercy. One of the hands was crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth, reminding the courier of the knife wound she inflicted during their struggle on the stairs.

What caught Azusa's attention the most though as the woman's eyes. They were not beastly, slit-pupils as she had imagined. Rather, they were damp with unshed tears and gleamed with guilt and dread, as if she was expecting punishment for what she did.

Basking under the sunlight, this stranger looked like a lost little girl even with all those peculiar characteristics. Azusa vaguely recalled the child she delivered the piece of fish for, and shook her head at her whimsical silliness. Even just briefly, how could she even compare that innocent child to this…creature that tried to eat her?

Azusa kept her eyes trained on the horned woman as she painstakingly sat up against the couch, gritting her teeth to keep the pain at bay. The brunette fidgeted, lifting her hand uncertainly like she wanted to help the courier but was unable to leave her sanctuary behind the bag.

"The scab must have ripped open," Azusa hissed, wiping away the sweat adorning her brows before her hand returned to clutch at the bandaged wound. The wrapping was bounded well, considering it was done with a piece of torn fabric from what appeared to be the brunette's dress. Yet without proper treatment, the thin piece of cloth was not enough to stop the blood from oozing.

"I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to…um, I was just looking for bandages in your bag…um…"

The shy, fearful voice was almost lost like a breeze through the morning air, but Azusa had heard her. The courier heard the sincere apology and she felt she must express her acceptance of it, so she could speak to the brunette without the latter choking up at every word. As Azusa shifted and cautiously moved forward, the horned woman tensed and backed away instantly.

"S-stop! Don't come any closer!" Frightened umber orbs wavered from the ground to the stained wrapping on the courier's shoulder, "I-It's not a good idea, I d-don't know what I'd…a-and your wound is bleeding again…"

Azusa was reminded of the abandoned critters she encountered during her travels. Every time, she wanted to hug those lost creatures yet she could not even approach them because they were still part of the wild.

Untamed and free.

But was this woman the same? Would she bite her…again?

The courier knew she should be careful around the horned woman yet her instinct was not giving off any alarms. As long as Azusa was able to keep the brunette here, she would be able to explain her intentions and perhaps even deliver the letter.

Judging from the intensity of the sunlight, Azusa guessed it was around midday already. This woman must have tried her best to take care of her in spite of what transpired earlier. Azusa did not know how to feel about the brunette but it would be best to treat her as an impartial acquaintance instead of an attacker. It always seemed to work out in the past. By remaining her distance, Azusa was always able to take her leave after exchanging pleasantries instead of having to linger longer for forming deeper bonds she did not care to forge. Treating this brunette in this manner would allow the courier to return to her usual mindset, granting her a sense of normality she desperately needed.

How should she approach the subject though? The ponytailed woman remembered the brunette's reaction to the recipient of the letter, this miss 'Yui'. Either this woman was Yui or she knew who Yui was. However, both options brought out rather extreme response from her so Azusa must choose her words carefully just in case.

"Alright, I won't come any closer," Azusa resisted the urge to furrow her eyebrows at the relieved sigh from the brunette and continued to speak in a professional voice, "let's just put aside everything that happened between us for now." She breathed deeply, ignoring the protesting stings at the terrible bite wounds on her shoulder, "First, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Azusa, a courier. I apologize for entering your mansion twice without permission but I had to make sure the letter was delivered properly. It is understandable that you are not too…pleased with my trespassing."

"O-oh, n-no, I wasn't a-angry or…u-um, I should be the o-one apologizing instead, I-I attacked y-you twice for no reason a-and-" the brunette's stuttering got worse and her murmur became inaudible to the courier's ears.

"Didn't I just say 'let's put everything aside for now'? But it's fine. I accept your apology."

"J-Just like that?" The woman could not mask her shock, though her body tensed again as if she was ready to bolt any moment. Azusa frowned. Of course she could not just forget everything that happened but it would be dangerous to bring up the subject now. She needed to keep this woman in her current mindset. Again, the courier's experience helped suppress her turbulent emotions so she was back to her impartial state of mind.

"Yes, you mean your apology, of course I will accept it." Azusa had no trouble saying these words because she truly believed in the sincerity of this woman's words. The courier trusted her instinct enough that, for now, the speaker was not the slavering beast that tried to kill and eat her.

"I-I am just a…monster…h-how could you…" the horned woman attempted to blend into the shadows in order to hide her inhuman attributes but the sunlight's shawl kept her away from the shades. She clenched her eyes as if this would block her from Azusa's view.

The black-haired woman continued to observe the brunette though, never averting her gaze. She tried her best to show she did not mean any harm and she was not afraid of those horns or claws, not at this moment. Azusa was curious, very curious, but none of her feelings leaked through as she calmly sat there. Duty first and questions later, if she ever got the chance to do so.

The awkward silence continued but Azusa persisted, allowing the brunette to adjust to her presence and attention before filling up the room with her neutral voice.

"Well, what's your name?"

"M-my name?"

Azusa frowned at the frightened, astonished expression on the brunette's face. So many emotions flashed in those flickering eyes that the courier could not discern how the other was feeling. One thing was for certain though.

This horned woman was definitely not the same one as the monster who wanted to eat her.

"Yes, your name," Azusa spoke again, this time with a careful gentleness in her tone.

"…I don't have a name. Names are for humans," the brunette still appeared to be scared, but there was a steel edge in her reply.

"Then you must have a name," Azusa took a deep breath, "those who aren't humans would not bandage my wound or feel concerned." The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the woman had multiple personalities because of the two drastically different personas she faced. This explanation appeared to be the most reasonable in the courier's practical mind.

"T-that's-"

"I was attacked, yes," the courier quickly cut her off with a firm voice, "but you didn't have to take care of me afterwards if you are what you say you are. Please tell me your name."

The woman breathed harshly, clawed fingers clutched at the hem of her torn dress like a cornered kitten who was silently crying in distress. Her head was bowed, her long bangs obscuring her eyes but Azusa knew tears were probably swimming in them again. The courier was about to apologize for being so nosy when the brunette lifted her head. Her gaze was fixated on her misshapen hands as she whispered.

"Ui…my name is…Ui."

Her voice was so detached and monotonous, like she was reading an uninteresting piece of information off a book.

Like she was not certain if that was her own name.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

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><p><strong>End of Chapter I<strong>: **The Name is the Sign**

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Athyra**: Chapter I. Yes, it's quite long, but it contains everything we want the readers to experience. Like the preface, it was quite fun writing this chapter. For some reason, I don't know what to say here, maybe because I've already said everything I wanted to say. Thanks for reading and thanks for the supports.

**ghikiJ**: And so, the characters are introduced. Since this story was originally a oneshot, the story's events may proceed at a rather fast pace compared to actual multi-chapter pieces, so keep that in mind. This chapter was original only 8k words. Yet, it ended up 12k for some reason. Editing was tedious due to sheer amount of text but I hope that we did a good job at it. Within the next few days Athyra will upload some character/scene illustrations on her DeviantArt page, which you can access through her profile. I will also post links to those illustrations on my profile page when they are available.

**Minor Edit: **Hurrying to upload on the 13th caused me to neglect formatting. I just revamped the chapter format, so ignore the random increase in word count. They are just from the horizontal rulers and this note.


	3. II: Vere Et Autumno

This story's chapters just seem to grow longer and longer, and the longer they get, the harder they are to beta and edit. This chapter is a couple thousand words longer than the previous one so bear with us. In any case, enjoy.

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><p><strong>II. Vere Et Autumno<strong>

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><p>"Miss Ui," Azusa's firm voice snapped the brunette out of her trance. Miss Ui blinked perplexingly as if she just heard a foreign word.<p>

They stared at each other like how two passing felines would, gauging the other's reaction and deciphering what the appropriate action should be. Wary but unwavering carnelian bore into frightened, uncertain umber. The horned woman's eyes then flickered to the dusty floor moments later, unable to endure such a piercing gaze for so long.

Azusa swallowed uneasily and breathed in a steady rhythm to aid her spinning mind in piecing together all the available clues about Miss Ui so far. Judging from the condition of this decrepit room, it was easy to conclude that this brunette had not had any human contact for a very long time.

The courier recalled how the brunette said that names were only for humans and wondered if Miss Ui saw herself as something less than human. Azusa's jaw muscles tightened at the thought of the horned woman attacking and even eating another person, and pushed it to the back of her mind. Perhaps it was just hunger that drove the brunette's cognizance into the brink of monstrous insanity. Maybe, just maybe, if the courier distracted Miss Ui with food, the brunette might not regress back into that creature she fought earlier. Her jaw muscles loosened a bit, for she liked how her mind was rationalizing this phenomenon. It gave her foundation to base her thoughts on, so her professional mindset could easily push aside her near-death encounter as a separate event caused by that hungry beast. Now, Azusa needed to speak to this Miss Ui like they just met for the first time.

However, the courier could not treat the brunette as a simple addressee either. Azusa's instinct was telling her to delay the delivery until everything was absolutely clear. _Miss Ui…and the recipient of the letter, Miss Yui. Perhaps there was a mix-up, since their names only differed by one letter after all. Or was the address itself wrong? _Azusa did not know this area well, but there could be other mansions nearby. If she recalled correctly, the lady with the parasol said she was a neighbor. Frowning, Azusa tried to remember more about the conversation they had, yet the ache in her wounds proved to be distracting. Now that she saw Miss Ui under proper lighting, she decided there was a bit of resemblance between Miss Ui and the lady she met in the forest. Then again, the courier saw so many faces throughout her career that they tend to blur together, making everything indistinguishable. Perhaps she was just overthinking.

Azusa sighed quietly as if the simple movement would stop her mind from straying. She must focus on how to treat the brunette. The courier was surprised and rather dismayed that she had no idea how to interact with someone who she was not supposed to treat professionally. She dug through the recesses of her mind and tried to recall instances when she dealt with people outside of the category. Through blurry images, she managed to group these people as her boss, her only friend, a few people from the town she lived in and some nobles, like the lady. None of those categories was suitable for Miss Ui.

The brunette did not seem keen on starting any conversation either. Miss Ui looked like she might bolt out of the room any second, like a targeted woodland critter. She could not understand why Miss Ui would be scared of someone like her. She was shorter than the brunette, and she was practically defenseless so should the beast persona return, she would not be able to fight back. Unlike the time on the stairs, Azusa did not have any energy left. Her entire body ached so much that she was barely able to remain upright at all.

_Is it…the way I talk?_ Azusa's one and only friend always reprimanded her for her unfriendly demeanor. If the courier was right about her deduction of Miss Ui having the mindset similar to a wild creature approached by humanity for the first time, it would seem reasonable that the brunette would be afraid of someone like Azusa.

_Even then, why should she be scared? If it was me, I would- no, don't go there,_ Azusa bit her lips hard but she could not stop a sudden image assaulting her detached consciousness.

She could still see an expressionless girl staring back at her from the mirror, distaste apparent in those weary carnelian eyes as they glanced over the burdensome frills and laces accompanying her dark red dress. Azusa could still hear the buzzing in her mind as she walked out of her room and hurried down the hallway gracelessly. She deliberately paced her steps so loud clatters of her shoes would fill up the silence in the vast yet empty mansion. She still remembered how she timidly opened the grand double doors and poked her head out expectantly yet despairingly, for her rational mind already told her that no one would be coming home.

The courier sighed and closed her eyes, effectively terminating the painful flashback. It was foolish of her to think that her younger self and Miss Ui were the same. Unlike her, the brunette was not waiting for anyone to return to this mansion, was she? Even then, the wait would be in vain. For Azusa, her parents' deaths brought certain finality; she knew they would not return. She knew little about the brunette but seeing how abandoned this whole place looked, no one would be returning to her either.

Perhaps the horned woman really was waiting for someone but Azusa's unexpected visit crushed that hope. Putting aside that beastly persona, the courier had attacked the woman even though it was in self-defense. This Miss Ui persona must remember the events somewhat so the fear and wariness remained.

Azusa took a deep breath again. This was not going anywhere.

"A-are you alright? O-of course you're not, y-you're still hurt after a-all…"

Miss Ui's anxious stutter helped Azusa make up her mind about treating the flighty woman as a client. In spite of the brunette's obvious unease, she did not leave the courier's side. Miss Ui kept glancing at Azusa's wounds with such concern in those bright, teary eyes that the messenger felt the instinctive need to reassure her.

"I'm fine. I don't have any bandages in my bag but it's okay," Azusa then slowly reached over to reclaim her bag and as she did so, Miss Ui grimaced and looked away. The courier noticed the horned woman was trying to hide her nose the best she could because she probably smelled the blood from Azusa's wounds.

"How about you, Miss Ui? Your…head and your hand…are you alright?"

"My head and hand?" The brunette sounded so confused for a few moments. Blinking, she slowly lifted her hand as if she just noticed her own injury. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking, I-I'm okay, I-I don't really feel it, really…um," she quickly backed away until her back softly hit the couch opposite of the one Azusa was lying on.

How was that possible? Her hand was impaled! The way she wrapped her hand looked like her injury was merely a scratch, not a stab. There was also some blood visible on her temple yet she did not seem to be bothered by it. What was going on?

"Y-you said you are a courier," Miss Ui muttered weakly and interrupted Azusa's thoughts. It was obvious she was trying to distract her mind away from focusing on the messenger's blood, "what were you going to give me?"

"You don't remember?" Even with the brunette's abrupt transformation in personality, Azusa was certain Miss Ui would remember the reason why she was there.

"I do…I think. I'm not too sure though," Miss Ui frowned and shook her head, "My memory is hazy but…it's a letter, isn't it? Is it for me?"

Azusa replied quickly, "Ah, no. P-perhaps there was a mistake, wrong address or something. I will check with the office." Until she found out more about the sender and the recipient, Azusa would not tell Miss Ui more about the letter in case it set off the horned woman again.

"I-I see…yes, you must go back to your office, wherever you came from," Miss Ui's voice grew firmer with each word, "I-I don't have any provisions to treat your wound properly so it's best that you leave when it's still bright out."

"You're right," Azusa dusted herself and carefully put the strap of her bag on her good shoulder. She must get this matter sorted out as soon as possible, and it was better for both parties that she did not linger anymore. She used the couch for support as she painstakingly stood up. A sudden wave of dizziness almost made her collapse but a pair of warm arms caught her before her knees gave away.

"Y-you are still unwell! M-maybe I should, um, accompany you…" Miss Ui trailed off nervously. It was evident she did not like the idea of leaving the mansion and that she did not want to be in contact with the courier. However, the proximity allowed Azusa to feel genuine concern from the brunette, whose hands were shaking as she fought so hard against her instinct to help the courier.

Once Miss Ui was certain Azusa could stand up straight, she quickly backed away to put a comfortable distance between them. The courier seemed unaffected but she was truly baffled by the brunette's fear. Azusa should be the one scared, not Miss Ui.

Sighing, the courier decided to just make things easier for the two of them. "That's alright, I'll be fine by myself. It's only a few hours walk back to town. I can make it. Look, the injury is not bleeding anymore," Azusa paused, irritated by the prickling sensation from the bite mark on her shoulder. However, the dull ache reminded her of the brunette's predicament of how this place lacked real food. "Once the wounds are treated, I will return."

"W-what did you say-? W-why? Shouldn't you s-stay away?" Though bewildered, the horned woman finally turned to look at Azusa, as if to make sure she was not hearing things.

Miss Ui's inhuman actions were caused by hunger, a kind of pain the courier could not comprehend. She never had trouble obtaining food to fill her stomach, especially when she still lived in her mansion. But if such torment could drive someone who seemed as timid as the brunette insane, Azusa decided she should do everything she could to help the brunette. The courier knew her conscience would not allow that, so she must do the right thing.

"You said you are hungry, aren't you? I don't have a lot of food with me but," Azusa pulled out her rations from her bag, "I want you to have them. You must have seen them when you were looking for bandages yet you didn't take them."

"I did see them but-"

"Well, I am not hungry and I'll be returning to the town anyways."

"O-oh I c-can't possibly accept the food-"

"I'm doing this because I want to, okay?" Azusa grabbed the flighty woman's hand before she could leap out of reach. Miss Ui cowered and lowered her head, eyes clenched shut in terror as if she was going to get hit. The courier inwardly reprimanded herself for such an abrupt movement but she did not loosen her grip. Instead, her hand tightened encouragingly around the brunette's thin wrist until the shivering stopped.

"Here, take it," Azusa said firmly, stuffing the sack of rations into Miss Ui's arms. Large, innocent eyes blinked quizzically at the black-haired woman.

"Are you sure? I-I don't want to-"

"This is my food, so I get to decide what to do with it," Azusa patted the back of Miss Ui's hand reassuringly and was pleased that the latter did not jump, "And I've decided to give it to you. I will come back with more food…I mean," the courier had to look away from Miss Ui's puzzled yet hopeful expression for she was uncomfortable with the sheer gratitude on the brunette's features. "I need to find out more about this…address mix-up anyway so I will return bearing more information about this matter."

Those beautiful yet sorrowful umber orbs were stained with water as they glanced back and forth between the pouch and the wrapping around the courier's shoulder. Azusa was intrigued by Miss Ui's rather child-like mannerism. The brunette acted so much younger than she looked yet, at the same time, an imperceptible aura of ancient wisdom surrounded her.

Those tears were merely outlet for such clashing juxtaposition.

Azusa could not completely discern the emotions contained within those droplets but she could certainly empathize, especially with the one thing that made her feel close to Miss Ui in spite of everything.

Loneliness.

The conflicting childish innocence and sophisticated intelligence cried out Miss Ui's abandonment. Within the depth of this seemingly deserted mansion, the horned woman was confined to solitude with nothing that defined time. For Azusa, there was no sense of time either. She was trapped in her own world, accompanied by a void that used to be filled with memories.

During this brief moment their eyes met, the courier felt she understood the brunette.

Though her fear was still apparent, Miss Ui raised her bound and trembling hand towards the courier. Azusa watched in mild alarm due to instinctual reflex, but immediately subdued her barely noticeable flinch when the horned woman's hand stopped in midair. The courier swallowed slowly and inaudibly as the brunette gathered her courage to reach out to touch Azusa's injured shoulder. The gesture was tentative, fearful even, but she only felt an inexplicable serenity from the contact in spite of Miss Ui's quivering fingers and obvious claws.

"I am sorry…and thank you," the brunette's soft voice was thick with tears but a light smile finally graced her weary features.

Azusa felt something on her chest lifted. Perhaps Miss Ui was not scared of her. Rather, the brunette must have been uncertain how to treat her as well. They were not that different, Ui and Azusa. The courier was convinced that she could leave the brunette alone for some time before returning with more provision. Hopefully those rations would keep the beastly persona at bay.

Nodding, she slowly let go of Miss Ui's wrist and set her resolute gaze on the brunette. "I will be back with more food, okay?"

Miss Ui opened her mouth, possibly to decline the offer but instead she nodded almost shyly, "I'll wait for you then…A-Azusa."

The courier blinked, pleasantly surprised that the brunette finally called her name; and in such a soft, careful tone too, as if the syllables must be pronounced perfectly. Miss Ui appeared to be more relaxed around Azusa after speaking her name aloud. The self-conscious brunette then led the courier out of the mansion in relatively comfortable silence. Azusa tried her best not to let her eyes stray but all those dazzling paintings that hung along the hallways and that dusty yet magnificent chandelier up above their heads were calling for her attention.

Just what history did this mansion hold? Just what kind of people used to live here? Just…who was Miss Ui?

Obviously, because of those strange horns, Miss Ui could not leave the mansion even if she wanted to. Perhaps past scorn or rejection caused the brunette to lock herself here, far away from society. Azusa shook her head imperceptibly, unwilling to dwell upon it any longer. Curiosity notwithstanding, the courier had little desire to dig into someone's past. Personal matters should stay private. Walking through the large but empty manor reminded her more and more of her abandoned past. She must leave this place and gather her thoughts before returning, aside from the need to treat her wounds.

Her fatigue must be the reason why her memories resurfaced. At least everything appeared to be normal now. Despite of everything that happened, she could think that she was merely taking her leave after a delivery, and was returning to town. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the grand doors. She adjusted the bag's strap, mindful of her injury and tilted her head towards Miss Ui. The brunette stayed under the shadows of the entrance door, tentatively peeking behind the frame. Azusa pursed her lips, reminded of her younger self at this particular image yet she determinedly kept her gaze on the horned woman. It was all in the past. She should not be affected anymore.

Miss Ui waved back in small, stiff movements, showing her unfamiliarity with the gesture. Though hesitant, Azusa lifted her arm and waved back, feeling her inner self breaking through the courier's professional mask, and she found that she did not mind it at all. Miss Ui was trying to appear as friendly as possible, so Azusa felt compelled to return the favor.

"Be careful…"

Azusa was sure she did not imagine these words as she stepped onto the muddy path, where her footprints were still visible. The courier felt revitalized from those simple words as she began her long and grueling walk back to town. Yet by mid-afternoon, she realized that she overestimated her stamina and conditions because she had to take a lengthy break by the roadside. She almost dozed off against the tree, so exhausted that her limbs refused to cooperate. Now that she thought about it, she did not have a decent sleep since she first arrived at the mansion. The small naps she had were really fainting spells and did not count. Her shoulder felt so stiff that she was starting to lose sensations around the area. However, the emergency bandage rubbed against the raw skin every now and then, stinging her wound and reminding her that the bite mark refused to be overlooked.

Azusa was thankful that she was travelling in broad daylight though, so she did not have to look out for wild animals. She knew she did not smell pleasant, covered in mud and that bitter tang of blood but she did not care. All she wanted to do was get her wounds treated, obtain the food and go back to Miss Ui as soon as possible.

_The way Miss Ui looked when I stepped out of the manor and walked down the path…she looked just like me back then. I…I can't disappoint her. I won't let her wait in vain. What if she faithfully keeps checking the door to see if I actually returned? _The hypothetical scenario hastened Azusa's pace even though her muscles protested with each shaky step she took.

By the time the outlines of the town came into view, her clothes were already soaked in sweat and the sun had already retreated behind the horizon. _I didn't know the town was that far. _She panted and blinked rapidly to clear her blurring vision. _I must hurry. Just a little bit further. _She staggered through the less populated streets, but her bloodied appearance still attracted a lot of attention and murmurs immediately floated about her. She paid no heed though as she trudged on towards her destination.

"What happened to you?"

She staggered into the clinic and slumped down on the seat, silent. The town's doctor let out a disgruntled groan, carefully peeling the wet fabric off the shoulder wound. It was not the first time Azusa had gone to this stern but maternal doctor to treat her wounds. Of course, the young courier never had injuries as severe as this one but at least both parties were used to this process. The doctor would berate her for taking up a job meant for men and Azusa would just retort by saying her courier friend was a woman too and that the doctor was in no position to say that either.

The bespectacled doctor rolled her eyes, "yes, Azusa, we've had this conversation many times. I'm a doctor, true, but I don't travel through the wilderness like you."

Before Azusa could retort, the doctor breezily continued her reprimand, "A courier should have good stamina, like your friend. Also, she's never come here covered in scrapes and scratches, has she? She knew how to take care of herself."

"I can take of myself! I just happen to run into-" Azusa hissed loudly as the doctor began to clean the bite marks on her shoulder and the scabs on her arm. The older woman frowned because the courier never voiced her pain before, meaning the injuries were more severe than they appear.

"What did you run into?"

"Yeah, what did you run into, Azu- oh god, what happened to you?"

Azusa did not even bother to turn her head to face the newcomer. "It's nothing, Jun. How did you find me so quickly though?"

"It's easy. I just listen to people gossiping. Geez, with the way they were talking, I thought you were practically dragging your carcass here! I didn't believe them but now, look at you! You're coming over to my place after the doctor is done stitching that nasty wound. I'm expecting a full explanation, missy."

Azusa finally turned around and gave her friend a deadpanned glare. The russet-haired woman scowled back, arms folded just as stubbornly.

"…no, I need to leave soon."

"No you aren't, Azusa," the doctor cleared her throat and pulled hard as she wrapped the wound, making the smaller woman wince. "You must rest until you are well enough to travel again."

"Yeah, Doc's right. You were just delivering a letter! What's going to happen when you deliver something bigger next time?"

"Are you saying I'm not good enough?" The black-haired woman flared and stood up abruptly, causing another dizzy spell to grip her mind.

"Whoa, easy there. That's not what I meant," Jun steadied her friend with an exasperated sigh, "I'm just saying you need to rest before you can continue the job, silly. You need to sleep and you know it. You look absolutely pooped!"

Azusa bit back her retort knowing her friend was right. She supposed she could nap for a few hours and wake up really early to travel back to the mansion. At this rate, she would probably collapse on the road anyways.

"Fine, I'll take a break for a few hours-"

"Alright!" Jun noticed the doctor had finished bandaging her friend's wound. She practically shouldered the smaller woman, who was too tired to fight back. Thanks for patching up Azusa here as usual, Doc!"

"No problem. Bring Azusa back if she shows signs of a fever. Injuries like that are usually followed by severe illness, especially bites from wild animals. I want her here as soon as possible if that happens."

"Gotcha," Jun mock-glared at black-haired woman, "I'll be watching you."

"Whatever," Azusa muttered in annoyance as she plotted her escape. Jun narrowed her eyes and pulled her out of the clinic. The doctor only smiled and waved.

Azusa allowed her friend to drag her back to the taller woman's home near the couriers' office. She stared nostalgically at the small but homely building, which seemed to welcome her return with its presence alone. It looked so plain with its grey exterior and simple windows. However, it was the most stable presence in her life, a ubiquitous landmark that always waited and welcomed her return.

Time passed by so fast yet some things remained timeless under such relentless tides.

After Jun opened the door, she did not guide Azusa towards the couch as expected. "What, I'm not going to let you sit down when you're still covered in mud and stuff. You stink! Go take a bath. Come on, I'll help you."

Reluctantly, Azusa allowed her friend to steer her towards the bathroom. She did feel slightly cold, possibly from the fatigue, so a warm bath did not seem like a terrible idea. She just needed to hurry and leave as soon as possible. Jun was uncharacteristically careful as she helped the black-haired woman undress, muttering something about troublesome and stubborn girls.

Instead of being offended, Azusa was amused as she shook her head at her friend's grumbles. When the smaller woman slipped into the bathtub filled with warm water, she finally noticed how dirty she really was.

"You look like a war survivor or something," Jun chuckled and brushed through Azusa's now unbounded tresses to untangle the knots. "You even have blood in your hair! You didn't get hurt on your head, did you?"

"Maybe." Azusa vaguely recalled that she was pushed against the iron door of the dungeons, so perhaps she got tiny scratches from that ordeal, or it could be from the stairs after she was tripped and almost devoured. The courier was amazed at her own conviction to return to the mansion after everything she went through. _Then again_, Azusa told herself firmly, _I'm going back there for Miss Ui, not that monster_. _She is there all alone, without food, and I've already promised I would return._

"Maybe? Geez, we're not talking about some other person here. We're talking about you, Azusa, yet you act like you don't even care that you were hurt," Jun grabbed a towel and wrapped the smaller woman's hair up in a makeshift bun, "I'm sure you can feel the pain."

"I do. I'm not immune to it," Azusa mumbled monotonously.

"Then act like it!" Jun dabbed at the areas around the bandages with extreme care even though her voice was rising in volume, "It's not about that anymore. You…you're always so far away from us, Azusa…so cold. Sometimes I don't even feel like you're there… sometimes you come back to town without telling us that you returned and you disappear before we could find you. It's like you don't want to be found…and as if whatever happens in the world has nothing to do with you."

The black-haired woman carefully regarded her friend before speaking, "…I do apologize for not telling you and your father. You're right, it's quite rude of me. But I don't see anything wrong with the way I handle my job. I'm a true messenger," Azusa shrugged indifferently, "It's not like I'm doing it on purpose."

"Sure," her friend's voice was filled with doubt, "I don't know about your clients and other people, but your poker face can be quite scary, y'know. I'm not forcing you to smile but at least try to relax. You love your job, don't you?"

_Scary. _Azusa frowned and her shoulders drooped imperceptibly. _Miss Ui…was scared of me. Is Jun right? _

"Uh…hey, you alright there? Where's your usual retort?" Jun laughed forcefully, "Don't take it too seriously, I was just joking."

"No, you're right Jun. I really can't…I don't know how to-" Her ears reddened when her soft voice broke feebly.

"Geez Azusa, don't think like that. Forget what I said, alright?"

Azusa felt her chest was leaden with the weight of uncertainty even as her friend patted her back soothingly. As a count's daughter, the black-haired woman had always been distant from the others and kept to herself, determined to be the perfect lady her mother would be proud of. Yet her mindset continued to shape her outlook on the world around her, even though she was a courier now. Azusa chewed on her lip, distraught. She never thought about this but it was ironic, wasn't it? She was a messenger who was unable to convey her own feelings.

Maybe Miss Ui was not the first one to be frightened of Azusa. Nevertheless, years went by without her truly having any memories. She was just an observer, for time had stopped the moment her parents died. Nothing mattered much anymore. Whatever pieces she could remember were all in disorganized fragments, forsaken and insignificant.

"Come on, you don't have to smile for me. At least give me your usual glare," Jun suddenly pinched Azusa's cheek, earning a hitched yelp from the latter. The taller woman merely grinned at the corresponding scowl.

"Much better. Those are the eyes I want to see. It reminds me of how we first met, actually. Don't you remember?"

Azusa nodded slowly, uncertain why her friend was bringing this up now. The shorter courier searched through her mind before it could close up and ignored the ache in her chest. She faintly recalled the day her family's carriage almost crashed into an overturned one in the middle of an intersection. While her parents dealt with the drivers responsible for the road block, she hopped down from her seat to observe the surroundings in mild interest. There were all sorts of items scattered around the upturned carriage, and just as she was about to pick up a letter out of inquisitiveness, a dirty hand snatched it out of her grasp.

"You had same expression even back then," Jun smirked at Azusa's glower, "All I could think about when I met you was – what's with this stuck-up rich girl?"

"You didn't just think, Jun, you said it to me while you shook your fist," the black-haired woman muttered, deadpanned.

"Oh did I? Good, you do remember! But even so, you were nice too, Azusa, even though you didn't show it," Jun placed a large towel on the edge of the bathtub, chuckling as she continued to reminisce, "After our initial…argument, you gave me your handkerchief so I could clean off the smears on my cheek. Hmm, you were probably revolted by my dirty appearance instead of helping me out of kindness. But that's okay. Even then, it was something no other rich kids would do. So I guess what I'm trying to say is… you are you, Azusa, and you're a nice person."

The black-haired woman remained silent as she wiped her body with her friend's help, mindful of the bandages around her shoulder and arm. But she did not need to talk. Words were not necessary for they understood each other somehow.

She still remembered the first time she came to this town, lost but with conviction in mind. She studied so hard as an apprentice under Jun's father, just so she could become a full-fledged courier. The old man did not like the idea of Azusa journeying by herself but fortunately, he relented under Jun's unyielding persuasion. Even though it was uncommon for women to do such jobs, people did not really care what the lower class people did, so Jun and Azusa were able to carry out their deliveries without any problems.

To Azusa, there was no difference between the higher and the lower classes. They were all people. They laugh, they live, and they…die. She did not regret leaving her home, she never did. She got to ensure items were delivered properly and she was able to look at the world with her own eyes. It was incredibly fulfilling.

Once Azusa was dressed up in a simple button-up shirt and trousers, Jun folded her arms dramatically, "Okay, all cleaned. Now, aren't you gonna tell me how you got that wound? It looked really nasty. What the heck bit you?" She grimaced and dumped the courier's ruined coat on top of a pile of dirty clothes, even though the trench coat was no longer salvageable.

"Oh…it's just a …mountain lynx," Azusa replied distractedly, slowly moving her bad arm up and down to test it.

"Seriously? I thought those are just rumors!"

"Rumors? I never paid attention to them," Azusa sat down at the table, drained. Jun grinned and went to the pantry to grab some food, tossing an apple to the courier.

The black-haired woman stared at the red fruit hesitantly before taking a deep bite, smiling inwardly at the sweet taste. It was only then she noticed how hungry she was. "Mind telling me more about the manor, Jun?"

"The manor huh? That's the place you went to deliver your letter right?" Jun slumped down in front of her friend, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Well, even as someone who was born and raised in this town, I don't know much about that place. I only know that it was once inhabited by some wealthy aristocrats who prefer to keep away from the rest of society. Who knows how rich people think, right? Ah, no offense, Azusa."

"…non-taken. I'm not those people anymore," Azusa calmly bit into the apple.

Jun scratched her cheek uneasily but continued, "Anyways, so no one really knows much about the people living there. I think the count has a daughter? Two daughters? Sons? Er, yeah, we really don't know much because people never go there. Servants used to come into town to purchase commodities before, and that's basically how we knew people even lived there. They probably go to the bigger cities to buy stuff now."

_No, the place is deserted except for one person, Jun, _Azusa put away the apple core and went to sit on the couch, sighing in pleasure when her sore muscles sunk into the soft cushions.

"No one ever checked?"

"Well, rumors have it that there are mountain lynxes or wild dogs prowling out there. And I heard this from my dad a few years ago," Jun dropped her voice to a low whisper, intending to create the creepy effect, "there was someone who used to work here before you came, Azusa. She was a senior courier, someone I admired very much because she was the first female messenger to ever work for our company! Um, yeah, so she was supposed to go past the mansion to get to her destination. Well, she never came back."

Azusa swallowed, ignoring the goosebumps crawling up her spine, "and no one ever went to check her whereabouts?" _Don't tell me Miss Ui attacked her…_

"Well, we figured she just eloped because she did travel with her lover," Jun shrugged, "Besides the recipient actually sent us words of gratitude so the cargo must have been delivered successfully. All was well."

"I see," Azusa yawned and leaned into the backrest, glancing at the large bright circle dotting the dark canvas outside. "So there is no way for me to check if this letter's address is written correctly? Who requested to have it sent? I just picked it up along with the rest of the letters…"

"I don't know. I'm sure the sender dropped it off in the bin outside of our office and left. As for the address problem…well, Dad won't be back from his business trip for a few weeks but he might know something," Jun shrugged and stared at the black-haired woman appraisingly, "You've been travelling all over the place for the past few months, you deserve like, a vacation or something. Why don't you just take some time off? I'm sure Dad would want to see you and make sure you're okay."

"No, I've already made a promise to the woman living at the mansion that I'd get this matter sorted out."

"Oh? So you did get to meet the resident! What's she like?" Jun flopped down on the seat beside Azusa. The black-haired woman gulped and chose her words carefully. She did not want to lie to her only friend but she did not want to tell her about Miss Ui either. It would just invite too many questions she did not have answers to.

"She…she's really nice," telling half-truths seemed to come easily to the courier, "I was actually attacked by the lynx prowling in their forest and she saved me. She tried to treat my wound but I told her I'd take care of it myself."

"Geez, Azusa, you're so reckless and I thought you're the rational one! But why couldn't she just get one of their fancy carriages to send you back here instead of letting you walk back? What if you died trying to walk back here?"

Azusa's expression turned stony. "You know I dislike carriages, Jun. I declined her offer to accompany me."

"Right," Jun laughed nervously, "I haven't seen you in a while and I just keep saying the wrong things! Well, I think I should go back to the office to finish up on some things. How do you feel? Lightheaded? Does your wound still hurt?"

"It feels numb now and I guess I'm just tired. You're right. I should take a nap," Azusa slumped down on the couch, sighing deeply.

"Good good. I'll be back soon, so don't you dare leave without telling me! "Jun grinned and ruffled her hair before walking out of the door. The black-haired woman sighed and turned towards the window, carnelian eyes searching for the moon sleepily.

It looked so different back then when she was sprawled on the cold forest floor. The moon appeared serene now, almost benevolent, compared to its pitiless glow through the forest's canopy the night before. Strangely, it reminded her of the lady whose smile seemed to be the epitome of innocence. Azusa wondered if she should warn the lady if they ever meet again. Miss Ui might be harmless, but what if it was the monster who encountered the woman with the parasol? Clad in that elegant dress, she would be caught within seconds.

No, Azusa would not let that happen. She must return to the mansion with food as soon as possible. Her eyes drifted close as an overwhelming wave of exhaustion consumed her mind.

_Miss Ui…how long has she lived there by herself…? Where is her family?_

_What happened to her?_

* * *

><p>"<em>Miss, your friend is here."<em>

"_Alright. Let her in."_

_She nodded at the butler, who bowed and excused himself to open the gates. She set down the quill and slowly closed the tiny book she was scribbling in. Her eyes dimmed as she caressed the plain cover in contemplative circles. Sighing, she pulled the mahogany knob of her drawer and placed the small booklet in the middle of the empty space within so it would be immediately noticeable should anyone attempt to open it. Her expression was blank when she closed it with an audible thud. _

_There. It was final._

_The black-haired girl licked her parched lips and sat there for a while, as if giving her room a respectful moment of silence. Uncomfortable with how stifling her room felt, she slowly stood up and walked out onto the balcony. The cool autumn breeze brushed by her lustrous tresses as she rested her hand on the intricately designed balustrade. She gazed at the land below her with a withdrawn smile that disappeared soon after. Dull carnelian flickered away from a garden filled with purple tulips, daisies and hibiscus, unable to stare at a memoire of her mother any longer. She could not bear to look at anything from her family's vast estate because it threatened to shatter the composure she carefully built up these past few weeks. She gripped the alabaster railing and switched her view to the colorful forest beyond this land. The shedding trees and calming sways of the branches seemed to invite her to join their quiet symphony. She could see the peace and comfort they offered. _

_She chose her path. She would not stray anymore._

"_Azusa."_

_The girl tilted her head in greeting and settled her gaze on her friend, who was looking up at her with an uneasy yet understanding smile. Time resumed its tireless pace and coaxed the black-haired girl out of her musings. _

_Azusa glanced at the monochromatic scenery around her one last time before stepping back into the darkness of her room. She stared at the mirror beside her bed and was surprised at how much she stood out from the shadowy colors of the outside world. Shaking her head, she carefully undid the ribbons and laces in a pace that allowed her to appreciate the delicate art one last time. She stared at the velvety fabric in her hand and thought about how meaningless and insignificant it appeared yet, without it, her extravagant dress could not be worn. Her hand clenched around the frills as she slipped the rich red silk off her pale shoulders. She placed the superficial clothes on her bed and grabbed the shabby trench coat beside it. Dainty fingers ran up the coarse texture, marveling at how real and pretty its earthly hue appeared compared to the unnatural vibrant color of the dress. _

_She pulled the rough coat around her petite frame and was surprised at how heavy the simplistic material was. Nodding, she stared at her reflection on the grand mirror, pleased at how inconspicuous she looked. A sparkle glinted from beneath her raven tresses, bringing a frown to her otherwise emotionless face. Immediately, she removed her blue diamond earrings and lightly tossed them onto the bed, uncaring of where they landed. She had no need for such things, she never did. _

_Azusa brushed her hair almost wistfully, uncertain about its fate. Her mother had such long, beautiful hair but that seemed unimportant now. Her hand trembled as she reached for a pair of scissors on the nightstand yet her fingers paused inches away from the metal handle. A frustrated hiss left her lips as she grabbed a piece of string instead and swiftly tied up her long hair in a high ponytail. _

_She did not even bother to fix her bangs as she pulled up greyish pants around her waist and attempted to secure brown boots around her feet, unfamiliar with how they were supposed to be worn. However, she no longer cared. All she wanted to do was leave this place. _

_She ignored the shocked faces of her maids and servants as she briskly walked down the extensive hallway. Muffled sound of her boots against the carpet joined the frantic whispers around her. She continued to look straight ahead, indifferent to whatever their chatters might be about. _

_They could not stop her anyway._

_By the time she reached the front door, she was already slightly out of breath. Jun was leaning against the wood with a bored look but upon Azusa's arrival, it changed into an astonished frown._

"_I…I must look weird, don't I," the black-haired twirled a loose strand from her haphazardly tied up ponytail, feeling rather self-conscious to be seen out of her usual dress for the first time._

_Jun blinked a few times and grinned, "Nope, you look pretty as always, Azusa. Now, let's go to your new home!"_

_The russet-haired girl hopped down the steps dramatically and held out her hand. Then, as if realizing something, she stuffed her hands in her pockets sheepishly, "right, you're not a countess anymore, haha. Well well," she deepened her voice playfully, "hurry up then, newbie!"_

_Azusa ignored how warm her cheeks felt and smiled at the back of her one and only friend. "Thank you, Jun."_

"_Huh? What did you say?"_

"_Nothing," Azusa replied steely and followed the other girl without looking back at the majestic mansion that used to be her home. The smile quickly faded as she passed by the garden that might be neglected after her departure. She could only hope that the new residents, whoever they may be, would care for the garden's flowers as carefully as she and her mother did. _

_As she passed by the gates, she noticed a familiar glint from the corner of her eyes. She whirled around hopefully yet all she saw was the steel reflecting the rays of the setting sun. She lowered her head sadly, albeit embittered at her childish silliness. Of course, she would not see the particular glimmer from her father's monocle whenever she ran to the gates to welcome him home. The more she tried to remember her parents' faces, the fuzzier they became. She grasped at one of the bars and rested her head against the cool metal. Her body shook with silent sobs as the finality of her decision crashed down on her unprepared shoulders. _

"_A-Azusa? H-hey w-what's the matter-?"_

_Long suppressed tears trickled down her clenched eyes as she tightened her grip around the bar. She was out of her home. She was standing on the other side of the threshold yet why couldn't she just let go?_

_Repulsed by her indecisiveness, she pushed herself away from the gates and marched past her bewildered friend. This would be the last time she would cry. She had a goal now. A courier had no need for things such as regret. She must be strong if she wished to become the person who can shoulder emotions between a sender and a recipient. _

_A pair of arms encircled her from the behind, halting her movements. _

"_Let me go!"_

"_Calm down, Azusa. It's only the first day…you barely left the place where you grew up! Come on, let it out. No one's watching. I am a co- well, I will become a courier too so I don't really count. To you, I'm just a shadow, right? Come on, stop being stubborn for once."_

_No matter how much she wanted to struggle, Azusa could not move away from her friend's comforting embrace as tears continued to stream down her face. This was fine, wasn't it? She would need to empty everything out before she could construct her mask of indifference. She needed to break before she could attempt to pick up the pieces.__She slumped back and allowed her repressed emotions to reign freely one last time. _

"Yeah, don't keep it inside, Azusa, let it out…"

Azusa blinked sluggishly, her cheeks burning with feverish heat and her eyes stung from the continuous flow of tears. Her head was painfully heavy and her body ached all over. How long did she stand there crying in her friend's arms? As numb as her body felt, she could not mistake the encouraging grip of Jun's hand on hers.

No, she was not standing outside of her former residence anymore. She was lying on a bed and someone was dabbing at her shoulder with something cool. A feeble gasp left her throat when stabbing pain drowned all the remaining senses at her shoulder. Yet in spite of the agony, the fog refused to lift from her consciousness. Why did she feel so weak? What was going on?

"Doc! What's happening? Is this the fever you warned us about?"

"Yes, I was afraid of this. It would take a few days for a person to recover but …"

"But what? Are you saying she can't? Come on, she's stubborn! She'll pull through! It's Azusa!"

"You're right. I'm doing everything I can help her but the rest is up to her will."

Fever? Oh right, those bite marks. The beast was feasting on rat flesh before those fangs punctured her skin. That was why she could barely move. But no, she must go back. She must return to the brunette's mansion as soon as possible.

"Are you crazy? You were bitten! Now, look at you! You're sick and- no, you're not going back there!"

Azusa tried to protest but the haze in her mind clouded her consciousness before she could reply. She shuddered violently at the coldness travelling through her limbs even though her head burned fiercely. She desperately clung onto coherency because she did not know when she would be able to control her thoughts and body again. She needed to see Miss Ui. She promised that she would return. She refused to let the brunette wait in vain. Waiting in despair was one of the most terrible feelings a person could experience. She would not let the horned woman feel this way.

_I'll see you soon, Miss Ui, just wait for me for a bit longer._

"_Hehe, I'll see you soon. Just a little while longer."_

_Wait, who are you? And…why can't you see me now?_

"_I will bath you thoroughly to clean away all this sticky paint. Look at this pretty color! It's even richer than the one in our veins, isn't it?"_

_What are you talking about? What do you mean? Really, who are-_

"_Who a-are you?"_

_Red._

_Vermillion, scarlet, crimson, maroon-_

_Auburn._

_A bright smile._

_A brunette with horns tilted her head, her lips curving upwards to reveal menacing fangs._

Azusa sat up with a terrified gasp and held a hand to her pounding heart. When her fingers made contact with the damp shirt, shaky whimpers replaced frantic gasps. She quickly held up her hand to inspect it because she was so certain it would be covered in that perpetual red.

To her great relief, her clothes were only soaked with sweat, not the thick liquid that drenched all of her being in the nightmare.

Nightmare?

How could it be, when everything felt so real? There was no up or down, no right or left, just an endless stretch of red. She saw something familiar, something that made her tremble in such utter terror that she had to claw herself back into the world of living. Combing her hair with clammy hands, Azusa took deep breaths to calm down and urged her mind to think rationally. No, she could not remember anything from that nightmare anymore, except for that disturbing red.

And a shade of brown she could not distinguish.

"What time is it?" She slowly got off the bed with tired muscles, wondering how long her delirium lasted. She looked around and was not surprised that she was in her friend's room. A brand-new trench coat was draped over a chair, beside a basin filled with diluted pink water. She did not need to look at the stained bandages to know what it was for. She touched the gauze on her shoulder and winced when the soft contact seemed to puncture her skin like needles. At least the condition of her injury told her she had not been unconscious for too long. Unease chewed away at her already flighty mind when she noticed the caliginous sky outside the building. She hastily changed into her uniform and walked out of her Jun's room in unsteady steps. Her skin still felt warm and lethargy claimed her limbs but she pressed on.

She had a delivery to carry out and a promise to keep.

"Jun! How long was it since I came back to town?"

"A-Azusa!"The russet-haired woman swallowed the soup with loud slurp and quickly set down the bowl of stew on the table. "You shouldn't be up! You haven't completely recovered yet, you-"

"I thought I told you I need to go back to the mansion!" Exasperated, the black-haired woman grabbed her bag from the couch. She appreciated her friend's concern but surely, the taller woman understood her reasons?

"I know that but," Jun stood next to Azusa and gently turned the latter so they were face to face, "You were attacked, Azusa, attacked! I've never seen so much blood yet…h-how could you…why would you want to go back there? What is so important that you'd risk your life again?"

Azusa frowned at her friend's troubled expression, the very same one that greeted her every morning during her first few weeks of living with Jun's family. The shorter woman's contemplative silence gave Jun the chance to continue.

"You had a terrible fever because of your wounds and…I…I haven't seen you so expressive for a long time," the taller woman scowled and stared into confused carnelian, her voice deep with determination, "I knew you were keeping everything inside again! This isn't healthy, Azusa. Like I said many times already, I thought I was the reckless one but you always act without thinking! If you go back, who knows what's going to happen? You were lucky last time. There are just so many things that can go wrong! What if you-"

"Jun."

The taller courier broke off her tirade but she held Azusa's fierce gaze. The two stared at each other, immovable and unwilling to relent.

"I made a promise Jun," Azusa broke the silence, her voice soft but firm, "and I'm not one to break promises. More importantly, I have to deliver the letter, and you know how I feel about this."

Jun sighed deeply and patted the shorter woman's head before turning away, "Fine, you can go…only if I can go with you."

"No!" Azusa's immediate response brought a suspicious frown on her friend's face.

"And why is that? Why don't you want me to go with you? You're still hurt and I'll damn make sure that you won't get injured again! If that lynx shows up again…well," Jun held up her fist, scowling resolutely, "I'll make a fur coat out of it!"

"Jun, I'm grateful for your gesture, really. But this is a special case," Azusa struggled to find the right words to convince the russet-haired courier without revealing too much. "The woman living at the mansion is really shy of strangers. It already took a lot for her to accept my presence last time. I will be fine, Jun."

Determined, she stared at her friend to see if her half-truth was working. A mixture of annoyance, concern and contemplation passed through Jun's expressive face.

"Please."

The russet-haired woman sighed loudly and scratched her head, irritated. She knew she could not win whenever Azusa had that determination in her eyes. "Alright alright!" She abruptly hugged the smaller woman, who froze upon contact. "Just… come back as soon as you're done, okay? You have other deliveries to make too, y'know. I'd make you rest a bit longer since you just woke up, and it's already past midnight! But you, stubborn Azusa, won't listen will you? You'll just sneak out even if I said no."

Azusa fidgeted uncomfortably, filled with guilt for making her friend worry so much. "I'm sorry, I…"

Jun pulled away and patted her head with a light laugh, "I was just teasing you. It's fine."

"Thanks Jun, for everything. I…you're right, I'm not good at expressing my emotions but-"

"Nah, I get it," Jun flashed a friendly grin as she sat back down at the table. "I've always … admired you, Azusa. You have your own principles and you follow them through, even though I don't agree with all of them. But hey, no right no wrong here. And I heard you loud and clear. This is just something you have to do and I guess it's not really my place to stop you. All I can do is help you, and I will do just that."

Azusa walked up to Jun and placed her hand on top of the other woman's, hoping to convey how much she appreciated her friend with this simple motion. Even though she could not bring herself to smile, not when the gesture was so foreign to her, she hoped that Jun could see her gratitude. Jun smiled for the two of them and held Azusa's hand, squeezing it to show that she understood.

"So you need food right? Go ahead and raid the cabinet. You wouldn't be able to get food at the marketplace at this hour," Jun slowly let go of the smaller woman's hand, "Use extra sacks or something to cover the scents so the wild animals won't pounce you. We don't want you to get another bite mark."

"Right. Thanks again, Jun, really."

The taller woman waved casually and Azusa knew things were still alright between them. The black-haired woman certainly felt guilty, lying to her friend about what really happened but she could not possibly tell her about Miss Ui. This was not the first argument they had anyway. Their ideals were so different that clashes were unavoidable. Azusa could still vaguely recall when she proclaimed she should start travelling alone or she would never learn to be independent. Out of worry, Jun was furious with her, but gradually the russet-haired woman came to accept Azusa's decision. Their weird dynamic always seemed to work out in the end, and this was no exception.

Azusa gathered everything she needed and checked the items in her bag. She exhaled apprehensively but purposefully as well. She gazed at the back of her friend's head with an affectionate gleam in her usually distant eyes. Nodding decisively, she tied her hair with the ribbon she received from the lady and, without another glance, she left the place she called home these past five years. She walked through the quiet town with confidence springing in her steps, energized by Jun's trust and the mission she had to fulfill. Refreshed, she quickened her pace with her bulgy bag jostling at her side and soon she left the town's faint outlines behind. She immediately pulled out her torch and lit it up with practiced ease. The new source of light gave her even more courage, like a beacon guiding her to the right path in absolute certainty.

Filled with the giddy rush akin to someone going on their first delivery, Azusa ran through the darkness without any fear. Her guard was still up and her hand clenched around the dagger she found inside the new coat Jun gave her. She travelled under the protection of the tenebrous sky, unafraid of the empty road. The flame burned strong, its flare illuminating her path as clearly as the moonlight would have. Her mind was kept blank as usual as she concentrated on walking, mindless of the itch on her shoulder and the growing dizziness in her head. She was only slightly out of breath by the time she reached the forest. It was silent though, eerily so. No hoots of owls greeted her as she stepped into its alluring shades. No cries of nocturnal hunters cut through the night as she quietly walked through the untamed trail. She directed the flame about her to appease her paranoid mind that no one was following her.

Then why did the hackles on her neck rose in warning?

Her shoulder wound stung sharply, making Azusa's steps falter but she continued willfully. She just needed to make it out of this area then she could take a tiny break. It was possible that her injury was aggravated during her careless sprints, but even her reasoning did not wash away the unease clouding her mind. The closer she approached her destination, the more painful those bite marks became. When she finally stepped out of the thinning trees, she noticed her coat dampening not just from her sweat but also from the light rain shower previously blocked by the foliage.

"If this keeps up, my bag will get soaked, so will the food," she muttered in dismay and clutched the bag close, wincing at the strain to her injured shoulder.

"Good night…or should I say good morning, Miss Courier. What a pleasant surprise."

Startled by the tittering voice, Azusa frantically looked around and spotted a familiar figure near the pond not too far away from her. The lady gracefully stood up from her crouched position and approached the courier as if she was expecting her.

"Ah, yes," Azusa tilted her head in standard greeting, "good…morning…" she trailed off, uncertain how to continue the conversation. The lady disappeared so abruptly last time that the courier was at loss as to how to treat her.

"Oh, look at you, the rain is getting to you! Here~"

The brunette closed their distance and slightly raised the parasol so they were both protected from the rainfall. Though uncomfortable with the proximity, Azusa forced her body to relax and tried to appear as unaffected as possible. However, her unease was quickly noticed by the lady, who merely giggled and guided her from the pond towards the path leading to the garden.

"Thank you. Um-" the shorter woman tried to think of a topic, "It is almost dawn, Miss. Do you usually come to the pond at this hour?"

Chuckling in the same elegant manner Azusa remembered, the lady twirled parasol and splattered rain drops in every direction. Auburn eyes crinkled in mirth as if it was the most interesting game.

"I can't help myself! I don't want to be caught so I come here whenever it's dark out~"

Darkness was when the monster assaulted Azusa twice.

The courier whirled around, intending to grab the lady's shoulder to turn her around. Before Azusa could touch her, however, the brunette was already looking at her with a cute and inquisitive smile.

"What's the matter?"

Azusa put her arm back down to her side, feeling foolish. She fought against her embarrassment and proceeded to explain what happened after they parted. The courier omitted many details though as she wanted to get her point across without making Miss Ui sound like a heartless animal. Azusa skipped over her theory of the horned woman's behavior because she had yet to confirm it. All she wanted to do was make the lady understand that approaching the mansion alone at night was a perilous thing to do, especially for someone like her who wore such intricate clothing.

The lady's expression did not seem to change during the tale but it could just be a trick of light caused by the shades of the parasol.

Her voice did rise in fright though. "No way! The resident of the manor attacked you?"

Azusa regretted telling her story, but after seeing the brunette's rather airheaded smile, the courier felt compelled to warn the lady of the possible dangers. She appeared to be the perfect prey for that monster.

"How terrible! This happened because the person didn't have food, right?"

The courier was pleasantly surprised, that the lady seemed more horrified at the prospect of a person starving than what that person did. Azusa knew that under normal circumstances, Miss Ui would not try to eat her since the nervous woman appeared so innocent. The courier just did not expect the lady to share the same sentiments, especially since she did not know the whole story.

"Hmm, I know it's not my place to say anything but I hope you won't think ill of her. Remember what I said about not judging people by their appearance?" The lady tilted her head, revealing her signature smile. "Hunger can make people do crazy things!"

_If only she knew how correct she is,_ Azusa sighed inwardly, glad that she did not say Miss Ui tried to eat her rather than just attacking her.

The lady's smile widened at the courier's thoughtful frown, "Hmm? What's the matter? I hope you are still going to deliver the letter."

"O-Oh I am. That's why I've come back. I was supposed to return earlier but I lost track of time," Azusa fidgeted sheepishly. There was no need to talk about how she got sick due to her injuries.

"I am glad to hear that you managed to regain your sense of time and came back." The lady played with a strand of her sienna brown hair, looking even more demure, "you know, your speech the other day really touched me, that you will deliver the items to the recipients no matter what."

"Thank you," Azusa straightened up and tried to look as tall as possible. She was pleasantly surprised and proud that the lady truly understood and appreciated her sentiments.

"Oh, I've got a question for you," the lady giggled, waving her hand animatedly at something amusing but it was lost on the confused courier. "Is it cold in the mansion?"

"Um…I am not sure," Azusa tried hard to dig through her memories. The two times she was in the building at night, she had more dire matters to worry about. "It could be, since she seems to be the only one living there. Perhaps no one even attended to the fireplace. Also her dress looks so worn and thin, so she might be cold."

"Is that so? Did you give her the scarf I gave you?" The lady tilted her head, her face hidden from view by the bonnet.

"…scarf?"

The parasol twirled and whirled, forcing Azusa to lean closer to the lady to ensure the rain did not land on her. "Yes, I used a scarf to wrap your wound back then. Never mind that though. It must be so stained now."

"A-ah I apologize," mortified, Azusa struggled to think of a proper reply, "I think I lost it in the mansion. I promise I will find it though, and I will make sure the stains come out-"

"Oh no, I'm not blaming you or anything," the rotation increased in speed to reflect the lady's amusement, "it's fine, just leave it in the mansion. I do not need it anyway and perhaps the resident might use it to warm herself?"

The courier sighed in relief, grateful for the lady's kindness. She fastened her pace to keep up with the lady, who seemed to glide across the muddy path without any effort even though she must be wearing unsuitable shoes. Azusa could not keep her eyes away from the spinning parasol, so uniform and continuous its spiral was. She suddenly felt her eyes were dry and she blinked sleepily, feeling drowsy under the hypnotic spell.

Loud splatters snapped her out of her trance and she barely stopped in time before she crashed into the lady.

"Oh my, it's quite a downpour, isn't it? We should wait for a bit until the sky calms down," the brunette smiled and led them towards the nearest tree. Since it was still early spring, the branches sport newly grown leaves and thus provided a decent shelter for them.

"Ah I apologize. I have to go back to the mansion as soon as possible I'm already late enough as it is," Azusa frowned at an image of Miss Ui waiting by the door that sprung in her mind. "So excuse me for my rudeness, I-"

"Wait, I know you're in a hurry but this isn't just about you anymore," the lady's smile was patient, as if she was explaining an important matter to a tenacious child, "even if I lend you my parasol, the bag will still get soaked."

Azusa clenched her fists but she obediently returned to the brunette's side. The wind caused the rainfall to become slanted that the two of them barely remained dry even under the tree. The courier fervently hoped the small storm would retreat soon. Miss Ui already endured several days without food, and Azusa was sure the meager ration she gave to the horned woman would not even last for one day. What if Miss Ui reverted back to her beastly persona again?

_Then I'll have to make sure she changes back her human side again_, Azusa vowed, _it was my fault that I kept her waiting._

"What's on your mind, Miss Courier?"

"A-ah I was just thinking…um…how everything is not as perfect as it seems," Azusa replied honestly. It might not be the complete truth but she did wonder about this illustration of perfection ever since her parents' abrupt deaths.

"Oh? What do you mean?"

Encouraged by the lady's apparent interest, the courier elaborated softly, "Take seasons for example. I quite like spring since it is the best time to travel but even with all the beautiful flowers blooming and hibernating creatures rejoining the world, I feel like something is lacking. Everything is just so gorgeous that it just seems …fake to me."

"Mhmm spring is just like a mask, isn't it? Hiding what was about to come and what it once was."

"Ah…yes, I suppose you could put it that way," Azusa glanced at the lady's amused smile, like she knew a grand secret that only the experienced would know, "so spring is not perfect, not to me at least."

"What is your favorite season then? You must have one, in spite of its imperfection~"

"Autumn," the black-haired woman answered without hesitation, "It's…quite special to me. It was the season when I set out on my first journey. Whenever I step into the forests, whenever I see their changing colors, I will always be reminded of that time whether I want to or not. It is fine though. Rather than just a thought or piece of memory, it is a kind of feeling that helps clear out any other thoughts I have. Just the air itself calms me down."

"I agree," there was a nostalgic gleam in the lady's eyes, "I love autumn too. It does not hide anything yet it hides everything. The world is shrouded in this exquisite ambiguity that makes people pause to appreciate the changing season, don't you agree?"

The brunette took a deep breath, slowly closing and opening her eyes as if to demonstrate her reasoning. "See? It clears everything out yet the mysterious wonder remains. I remember the time my family would go on picnics in the forest. The cool breeze would welcome us with its gentle embrace, and the leaves would flutter down from the sky in celebration of our reunion with nature."

Azusa stared at the lady, mesmerized by her wise tone as she shared her tale. The taller woman smiled at the courier's entranced expression. "Even so, it cannot compare to my favorite season, not at all. Would you like to know what it is?"

"Yes…I'd like to-" Azusa froze when a cold finger was pressed against her lips. Words died in her throat as the lady languidly trapped the courier against the tree, arms on either side of her head. The bark dug into her back uncomfortably but Azusa could not move at all. The brunette slowly rested her chin on the shorter woman's good shoulder, giggling. The torch dropped from her slack hand, illuminating the surroundings in an earthly glow.

"U-um…L-lady-"

"This is comfortable, isn't it?" The brunette tilted her head, and Azusa winced at the searing coldness as their cheeks came into contact.

"Cold, yes? Raw truth. Winter. Ice is like clarity. There is nothing and it melts away into nothingness. Life disappears as time marches on. Life disappears as everything becomes white. But it is not a color, is it?" The lady smiled and whispered against Azusa's throat. The courier swallowed slowly, still unable to move out of the brunette's threatening hold. "Yes, winter has no color, which is why I adore it so much. Wouldn't you like to know why?"

"Why...?" Azusa hissed as the lady dragged her cold lips up to her cheek, "why would you like something so colorless?" She gasped and trembled in pain when she felt nails digging into the folds of her bandages. Her shoulder burned as slick red warmth trickled down her feverish skin. The lady chuckled lightly at her discomfort and began to stroke the stitches tenderly.

"Why, you get to paint everything in a lovely hue like this," the brunette pressed her lips against the courier's frantic pulse and brought up the stained fingers in front of wide carnelian eyes. Lips curving, the lady licked the crimson digits one by one as she continued to caress the pulsating wound.

"Such a sweet taste," she giggled in delight and rested her forehead against the courier's damp one. "Oh my, you're burning up. Could it be that the rain is making you cold, hmm?"

A simple tug was all it took for Azusa's lustrous black hair to cascade down her back. The weight of those tresses made her tremble apprehensively and further increased the helplessness permeating her senses. Ice licked at her limbs and fire caressed her skin. She was submerged in an invisible quagmire, robbing her body the ability to move. She could still see everything clearly yet there was a sheet of red dripping over the scenery. The courier was reminded of her terrible nightmare filled with this same stifling color, an eternal dye that could not be cleared. She seized up in terror and slumped in the lady's arms. Her knees felt so weak and her head was spinning with burning and piercing pain.

"You're pretty~" The lady giggled again and brushed the shorter woman's unbounded hair. The seemingly comforting gesture clouded Azusa's mind but a sense of purpose willfully broke through the haze. Her goal flashed behind her closed eyelids, reminded by the brunette's words. Instead of the horned beast, the courier simply saw the shy woman who waved at her.

_I…need…to see Miss Ui…_

"Hmm…I remember brushing hair as black as yours~" The lady abruptly let go of Azusa and backed away, tilting her head as if deep in thought. The weary courier staggered and almost collapsed against the tree. The quiet thud jostled her senses and she finally got her voice to work, albeit feebly.

"J-Just what are-" The black-haired woman choked and struggled fervently, grasping at the crusty vine that seemingly appeared out of nowhere to constrict her neck. Her eyes stung in confusion and powerlessness as she reached out towards the lady's unmoving form. The flame's dying embers hissed and flickered, causing the woman's silhouette to fluctuate unnaturally.

"H-help…me…"

The brunette twirled around and lifted Azusa's chin with her parasol, tilting her head as if searching for the best angle to observe the courier's face, "I am~"

"W…Wha…" She was losing consciousness fast. Why-no, how was this happening?

Just who was this woman?

Suddenly, Azusa could breathe again even though her neck was completely wet. She could not dare to look down because the sickeningly sweet smell was evident enough.

"W-what did you ….what did you d-do to me?" The black-haired woman kept her gaze straight, grasping her bag's strap like a lifeline. The bite marks clawed at her nerves in a vice grip that she almost stumbled from the sheer pain. Were her stitches torn open?

Smiling, the lady reached out and brushed a strand of sticky black hair away when the courier was still struggling for balance. Icy hollowness drenched her fleetingly. The warmth from the frigid night air stroked her skin just as briefly before she was plunged into that colorless void again. The lady's arms were then wrapped around her tiny shoulders, steadying her.

"Are you alright~?" Hair on her neck rose as the ghostly whisper danced across her pale neck. Azusa remained paralyzed as the lady continued to caress her back charmingly yet balefully, trapping her in this enigmatic embrace.

"W-who are you?"

The terrified courier felt the lady's lips curving against her wet neck as the hug tightened almost painfully. Slim and artistic fingers wove through Azusa's damp tresses and condescendingly patted the shorter woman's head.

"Here, the ribbon I gave you," she rubbed her nose against the courier's throat as she deposited the ochre ribbon into her pocket. Azusa shivered as the lady's lips trailed up to her jaw until they were inches away from her own.

There was only childish humor in those large auburn eyes. Fallen leaves were decaying, losing its former luster, lulling Azusa deeper to its desolate world. The curve of the lady's smile was barely noticeable, but the amusement was still apparent. She brushed her lips across Azusa's cheek and rested against the courier's ear.

"You said you will deliver anything, correct?"

The black-haired woman made an unintelligible reply, concentrating more on how to breathe rather than listening. Cold teeth nibbled her outer earlobe slowly, savoring the delicate softness.

"You're absolutely delicious~"

_Am I going to drown in blood? Am I being stripped of my sanity? Am I going to lose everything? Who…am I? _

"You're just a shadow too…"

The courier's eyes fluttered shut, unable to fight against the invading seduction any longer.

Everything turned black for an eternity until a voice pierced the deathly silence.

"Hehe, you're so adorable, dozing off while standing~"

Azusa blinked in shock, finding herself a shoulder's length from the lady, who was smiling at her with a worried gleam in her gentle eyes. The courier realized she was still holding the bright flame steadily in her hand, and her neck was devoid of dampness or crimson dye as she expected. They were still standing under the tree but the rain had already lessened drastically.

"W-what happened?"

"You dazed off. I tried calling you but you didn't reply. Are you alright?"

Though the words held a different tone, the black-haired woman shivered as she heard them. Did she hallucinate?

"Yes, I am fine. Thank you for your concern," Azusa nodded at the lady politely, using her professional voice in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. She felt too tired to think what transpired during her light nap. She decided she should at least reach the manor's front door and rest under the tiny roof before she was ready to knock again.

"The rain is almost gone. I-I think I can make it to the mansion just fine," Azusa quickly held up her hand as the lady moved to give the courier the parasol. She still felt uneasy being so close to the brunette but she tried to suppress her wariness before it was noticed. "Perhaps it is best that you return back to your residence as well, Lady, in case there is another downpour." She was about to continue walking when the brunette held up her hand to stop Azusa.

"Wait, I have a question, Miss Courier."

"What is it?"

"You said you will deliver anything, correct?"

Azusa quivered again at the exact words, thought this time they were spoken in such a hopeful tone that she felt really silly with all her deliriums. "Yes. Do you have anything you wish for me to deliver, Lady?"

"Oh, aren't you a puppy," the brunette giggled and pulled out a pair of pale pink gloves from her sleeves. "Would you deliver these to the resident of the mansion? These will surely keep her warm."

"A-ah, of course, I will do so," Azusa accepted them with slight hesitation, recalling Miss Ui's clawed hands.

"Oh, don't tell her it's from me though. Just say you found these out in the forest, which is half-true, yes?"

"R-right, I can do that. I'm sure Miss Ui would accept them."

"Oh? Is that her name?"

Azusa inwardly berated herself for sharing the horned woman's name. Miss Ui looked so reluctant back then, and who was Azusa to share her name to outsiders?

"Ah, I never got your name either, Miss Courier, would you tell me?"

"But I thought I did…" Azusa blinked, nonplussed. Right, when she turned around the lady was already gone so perhaps she did not hear her? "Azusa at your service, Lady. I work for the delivery company in town."

"Oh yes, I know that company," the brunette giggled at the insignia on the courier's gloves, "I know them quite well. They once delivered a package for me. It was from a young woman and her lover, yes, I remember. Really hardworking, and her lover was quite the joker, very entertaining."

"I see," Azusa could not help but sigh in relief. The people from Jun's tale really eloped after their last delivery then. It meant that Miss Ui didn't attack them. She probably stayed inside the mansion all this time. She would not have gone out to attack people on purpose.

"Well then," the lady's smile was small yet it felt meaningful for some reason, "My name is Aki. Pleased to be your acquaintance. You and I appear to be similar in age, yet we're so different~"

"I suppose," Azusa fidgeted awkwardly. She remembered similar questions during her travels, where women would be stunned at her career choice, sometimes even sneered at her with an arrogant wave of their shawls.

"No, I don't mean it in a bad way, Azusa," the way Aki spoke her name was so similar to how Miss Ui did that the courier had to blink a few times to reassure herself she wasn't imagining things. "I mean I admire you, a lot! You must have gathered so much courage to make such journeys! Don't you ever get scared or lonely, being all by yourself?"

"…I guess so," Azusa replied honestly, "but it's thrilling too, going to unknown places and exploring areas you've never seen before. Companions would be nice, but I guess I'm used to being alone so I prefer it that way. The most important thing is that I feel free under the vast sky."

A content glint shimmered in Azusa's dimmed eyes, "that's the other thing I love about being a courier. I'm never confined in one place. I get to travel and meet new people. That's enough to compensate for any loneliness. And just seeing the recipient's smile or even just being able to deliver the items to their hands is enough of a reward. I could not ask more than that."

"I'm really happy that, of all the possible couriers in the world, you are the one to deliver the gloves for me," Aki's bright smile inexplicably made Azusa's ears burn, "you will try to give Miss Ui the gloves first, right? Before you decide whether to give her the letter or not."

"Yes. After all, the letter is addressed to Miss Yui, not Miss Ui," Azusa could still feel the weight of the feather-like letter in her bag, "I do wonder if I should even mention it again until I find out more clues."

"I support that idea. It's safer that way, in case Miss Ui attacks you again. I hope she will like the gloves~"

"She appears to be a nice person, Miss Aki," Azusa gazed into the night sky, "I'm sure she will." _As long as that other persona doesn't emerge, it should be fine._

"Hehe~ Well, it's almost dawn, so I really shouldn't keep you out longer than I already had and," Aki spun the parasol again and again, the circle spiraling ceaselessly and indistinguishably. "It's starting to rain again."

A light prickle on her forehead snapped the courier out of her enthralled gaze on the umbrella, "A-ah, you're right. I'm going then. You should go home soon too, Miss Aki."

The brunette covered her lips with her hand as she giggled, "Of course I'll be going home. I'm just going to make a detour to the pond first. Have fun, Azusa~"

The black-haired woman sighed, unable to decide how to feel about Miss Aki. The strange…illusion during her delirium made Azusa uneasy. She patted the pink gloves in her pocket and took determined steps towards the looming manor.

She never realized that her trench coat was filthy and caked with maroon mud even though she had not tripped. She did not notice her hair was out of its ponytail and her stitches were bleeding, for her arm had become so numb and cold.

All she knew was that she must reach the manor's front door as soon as possible. It took great effort for her to even lift her legs, and it was getting harder to breathe with each heavy step she took. She must have forced her body too hard. She did sleep for a long time but that did not mean both her mind and body recuperated properly. The pounding in her head coincided with each muffled thud as her boots hit the ground. Her weak knees trembled with fatigue as she trudged on. The mansion seemed so distant, so out of her reach even though she was walking on a simple, straight path.

The rain resumed its relentless downpour, urging the tired courier to hasten her pace. She hugged her bag with her good arm, hoping to protect its contents from being drenched. Cold rainwater soaked through her coat and instigated chills down her spine even as searing heat draped over her head in a feverish embrace.

When she finally reached the front door, safe from the rain under its roof, she could barely hear anything other than the never ending splatters of raindrops in the muffled background. She collapsed against the door, shuddering violently as she struggled to keep her body upright. She grasped for the handle to steady herself, breathing deeply to clear the dizziness claiming her senses.

Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her trembling arm to knock on the door.

Thud.

_Tick._

Thud.

_Tock._

* * *

><p><strong>End of II: Spring and Autumn<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>Authors' Notes:<strong>

**Athyra: **Long chapter is long. And so the A/N is short. Jun's father owns a small courier company that consists of less than a dozen workers. The headquarters is in this town, where he, Jun and Azusa are staffed at. There are a few simple offices elsewhere with the rest of the workers.

**ghikiJ:** For those wondering about Azusa's infection, I would like to remind you of the time setting. While people already knew the existence of microorganisms in the early 1800s, but the idea of infections, or illnesses caused by these tiny organisms, is not widely known or accepted until later in the mid-to-late 1800s. Truth be told, it is only during this time period that the germ theory of disease is being studied, with scientists building on Antonie van Leeuwenhoek's earlier microbiological studies. Just a little trivia. On another tangent, more illustrations will be posted on Athyra's DeviantArt page some time in the next few days. Links will be posted on my profile for those interested to see them.


	4. III: Angelus Vulneratus

Since I have been busy with my last month in college, this chapter was written at the pace of a snail. It did not help that once I was free, Athyra became busy. However, it still managed to become "Spectre's" longest chapter yet. We tried to shorten it. We really did. Anyway, enjoy.

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><p><strong>III: Angelus Vulneratus<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Here's your tea."<em>

_A noblewoman greeted the Duchess with a joyous smile on her face. "I'm really glad that you were able to spare some time and visit me here," she chuckled happily as she poured exquisite tea for her golden-haired visitor to enjoy. _

_The Duchess smiled in return, pleased that she managed to convince her advisor to clear all her responsibilities for today so she could visit her precious friend. "Oh you, of course I will always find the time for you," she giggled, cerulean eyes sparkling in simple joy. "I have not seen you for a while."_

"_I know," the brunette sat on the couch across from the blonde, neatly folding the skirt of her dress underneath her, and fondly petted the blonde girl's dog. In response, the affectionate pet warmly nosed her gloved hand. She then beamed like the brilliant sun outside as she stroked the canine a bit more, "Such a good girl, Luna~"_

_The dog barked enthusiastically as it stood on its hind legs and licked the Countess' face, making the brunette giggle jovially. The warm and rather picturesque scene brought a blissful smile on the Duchess' aristocratic features. The Countess had always loved animals, and the blonde was quite happy by just watching her most important person and her dog enjoy each other's company._

_The brunette played with Luna for a few more moments before she settled down. Then she sipped her tea as her warm gaze returned to her esteemed guest. "Will you be able to stay for dinner tonight?"_

"_Is the Countess inviting me?" The Duchess chuckled albeit teasingly as she watched her dog lie down near her friend's feet. Luna had always loved its former owner and expressed its adoration in any way possible._

"_Of course!" The Countess declared rather brusquely, ignoring proper etiquette between their ranks, which amused the Duchess to no end. But then again, they were close and had known each other for years so there was no need for formality. "I'm all alone anyway. Having you here is certainly a nice change, and Luna is always so much fun to play with. Besides," the brunette drank a bit more of her beverage, her smile never leaving her cheery face, "I wouldn't dream of sending you home after such a long journey to get here."_

"_Why, thank you," the blonde sipped her own cup of tea, "I would love to stay."_

_Settling the delicate glassware back down on the table, the Duchess noted that there was a lack of pastries being served. Her smile faded like the steam from her hot drink as the reason whispered its grievous reminders in her mind. If circumstances have been different, the Countess would not have to force a cheerful smile or pretend that her eyes were not swollen due to tears. The brunette dwelled in this mansion on her own now after all, servants notwithstanding._

_The thought made the blonde's heart sink in her chest. Why was she always so useless? Could she not do anything at all?_

_The Duchess swallowed the bitter aftertaste of her thoughts and motioned for her attendant, "Bring my gift for the Countess here."_

"_Yes, Your Highness."_

"_A gift?" The brunette raised a fine eyebrow in question as she resumed stroking Luna's fluffy white head._

"_Did you think I would come here without something to give you?" The regal blonde girl chuckled amiably, hiding her own distress perfectly underneath her lilting voice. "I know how much you love those butter cookies from the capital."_

_The brunette's face lit up but not as much as the Duchess hoped it would. It was understandable, she supposed, for the Countess was not as happy as she once was. The blonde should treat even the smallest of sparkles in her friend's eyes as a victory._

"_Aww~ thank you. You're always so thoughtful!"_

"_Oh, it is nothing." _

I will do anything to return even a sliver of happiness you once had, Love, just to see a real smile on your face again. _The Duchess' mood fell, aware that simple things like her gift could not possibly mend the wounds that were etched so painstakingly onto her beloved's being. She had learned from experience that money could not buy happiness, but she could try. She hoped that her simple offerings, however insignificant they might be right now, could bring back the chipper girl she had come to adore._

"_I have something for you as well!" The Countess quickly stood from her seat, prying the Duchess from her thoughts, "Please wait here, okay? You too, Luna~" The smart dog thumped its otter-like tail on the plush carpet before lying down and resting it muzzle on its paws._

_The blonde smiled, flattered that her normally absentminded friend thought of something for her as well, given the nature of their current circumstances. After watching the brunette leave the room, she took her teacup once again and let her cerulean eyes wander the living room's interior. This place had not changed since she last came here about a few months ago aside from the fact that it seemed quieter and void. The Duchess felt a certain sorrow in her heart. Her friend really did live here alone, did she not?_

_She furrowed her pale eyebrows and made it her mission to visit her beloved friend as often as she possibly could. The brunette did not have to endure such sorrow alone. Yes, she would make sure she would be here for her. _

You are not forsaken.

_With her mind dwelling on possible routes she could take to fulfill her wishes, the Duchess sipped her tea. Perhaps she could invite the brunette for a stroll after their afternoon teatime. She had heard that sunlight did wonders to one's spirit, and she determined that staying in this steadily darkening manor might be unhealthy for the Countess. As if sensing her owner's concerns, Luna stood up from where she was lying and curled up next to the Duchess' feet. The blonde girl was forced to smile as she felt the brown and white dog exhale contently, appreciating how the canine was just as good-natured as the sienna-haired girl who gave it to her some years back.  
><em>

"_I'm back, sorry for making you wait~"_

"_Mmm," the blonde noblewoman shook her head and slightly bent down to place her teacup back on the table, "Oh, it is not a problem at all. I like your tea, by the way. It is so sweet-tasting. Did you add honey while it brewed?"_

_She looked up and saw a knife._

_Her blood ran cold._

"_No, I didn't, Your Highness." There was a crazed edge to the Countess' words and smile as she held the knife. Her hand trembled as her knuckles became visible through her pale rose-colored gloves. Anguish and insanity clashed on her features as tears streamed down her face, afraid yet desperate at the same time. _

"_But I will sweeten it soon enough…"_

"_What are you—"_

_A gentle hand brushed the Duchess' silky blonde locks while its owner sobbed pathetically as if possessed by something far beyond their understanding. _

"_I thank you…" the Countess brokenly lamented, choking as she wept. Her intense auburn eyes were coated with tears of despondency as she gazed down on frightened cerulean, "For what you have given me all this time."_

"_Y—" the blonde tried to speak but the crying girl hushed her with a pair of fingers against her lips. _

"_Friendship…" the brunette whimpered out, "…love. Thank you." Yet as she uttered words of gratitude, a waxen smile, so fake and threatening, graced her face. "I wish I could—no," she stubbornly shook her head and sniffled, "She is my treasure."_

_The Duchess then felt the hand that had lovingly caressed her cheek painfully grip her hair. Terror she had never imagined even in her darkest nightmares consumed her mind and froze her body as the glint of metal came closer and closer. She trusted the Countess, loved her, so why? Why? _

_The look on the brunette's auburn eyes seemed to reflect both the malice and misery of death itself._

_She felt the sharpness of the blade against her neck as her own tears started trickling down her cheeks. From the corner of her vision, she saw Luna looking up at them inquisitively, uncertain as to why its owners acted the way they did. Why was this happening? Was she lost in a nightmare? She clenched her eyelids shut as the sting in her eyes became unbearable. Such searing pain was proof that she was not hallucinating or dreaming, and that hurt her more than the ache on her scalp and sharp prickle on her neck._

_The words she heard next clutched and wrung her heart._

"_Goodbye, Love," the Countess cried feebly against her cheek, her tears mingling with the blonde's as she also struggled to breathe, "we will never meet again."_

_Then a kiss, so sweet and tender, was pressed against the Duchess' parted lips. Emotions, like whirling torrents, bled through the loving gesture, making the blonde girl weep tears of terror and anguish, of pity and love._

What have you become, my darling?

_Shattered blue diamonds gazed at tormented brown once more. She could not speak even though there were so many words she wished to tell the brunette, for the Countess' gaze left no pause and allowed no mercy. _

_Immovable._

_A sob escaped her throat._

Am I not your treasure too?

_She heard an anxious whine near their feet._

_Then a second of hesitation flashed in those pools of tears._

_With the last wisp of courage left in her limbs, the Duchess touched her lover's quaking yet threatening hand that held the blade against her neck. Yet instead of pushing the Countess' baleful hand away, she gingerly wrapped her trembling fingers around the brunette's knuckles. Though terror gripped her, all she could see was the misery behind those brown orbs, the sorrow of defeat, and the death of the girl she once knew and adored._

I've truly lost you, haven't I?

_Despite the wound of betrayal that vainly pulsed in her heart, the Duchess still wished that she could touch her lover's skin instead of the silken texture of the girl's glove. She wished that she could have been able to touch her paramour's gentle hand one last time, not this foreign limb that could only belong to someone filled with malice, someone so surreal._

_The Countess leaned closer and rested her lips against the corner of her beloved's mouth then whispered._

"_Please forgive me in heaven…"_

_Then there was only a sharp pain that lasted for a single moment._

* * *

><p><em>Dong~<em>

The Spectre's eyes fluttered open at the grandfather clock's chime.

_Dong~_

Her breathing was labored, and cold sweat dripped down the side of her face as she tried to recall what just transpired in her dream.

_Dong~_

But the moment the clock's peal dissipated into the cold morning air, the blurry images in her mind evaporated as well.

"What was…?" The Spectre whispered to herself as the dream completely slipped away from her consciousness. Confused, she slowly lifted her hand and rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. She tried to remember but she was unable to discern anything, for the distorted voices and hazy faces were nothing but smudges of paint behind her eyelids now, indiscernible like fog.

Yet, the Spectre felt a tight rope constricting her heart.

Surprise and terror melded together into an imperceptible sensation that was so foreign to the brunette.

As if the dread did not belong to her.

But it was there and she felt it, that raw fear and sense of betrayal that lasted in a mere instant. Yet, without anything else to go by except for a feeling and a fading memory, the Spectre was left quivering and perturbed.

_What was that…?_

_Tick, tock._

Shaking her head, the horned woman buried her face into her upturned knees. She must have fallen asleep against the grandfather clock again, waiting for a person who might not return. She released a deep sigh that effectively drew her mind away from her peculiar dream and returned her into the dark stillness of her dwelling. The Spectre then raised her head from the sanctuary of her knees to look beyond the glass windows. She saw that it was still fairly dark outside, but the muted light told her that the sun must be rising already.

She frowned at the sight of thick gray clouds obstructing the sky. It had been raining these last few days, so much that it became even harder to determine the difference between night and day. The drizzles would stop every now and then, but the sun had not freely occupied the sky on its own for almost a week, leaving the earth under the veil of dull grayness that did not help the Spectre's loneliness. Despite the depressing atmosphere, however, the brunette remained optimistic because the bad weather gave her a reason to believe that Azusa had not returned like she said she would because of the rain. Yes, that must be it, she thought, the courier could not have lied to her.

…_right?_

The Spectre had doubts because she had not placed any hope on anything for a long time, and Azusa was still just a stranger to her. However, the black-haired woman had been so kind in spite of what transpired between them a number of days ago. The courier's actions and her resolve had moved the Spectre's suspicious and fearful heart enough that the brunette actually wanted to have faith in her. It was just unfortunate that Azusa had yet to fulfill her words.

Perhaps the Spectre should not have expected too much. She had attacked and bitten the courier after all, so why would Azusa even think of returning to this mansion?

The horned woman smiled sadly, knowing that she was hoping for too much. If nothing else, there was a possibility that the courier would return with a band of armed men, ready to hunt her down. She did not mind that thought, she decided, because it only meant that she would not have to live all alone anymore.

The Spectre wrapped her arms around her knees while her eyes were still trained towards the glass plane that valiantly kept rainwater from entering the mansion. Even though she kept telling herself that she should not hope, she still waited and even counted the days since Azusa departed. The base of the grandfather clock had been her post since then because it was situated just above the twin stairs of the grand foyer, overlooking the large double doors of the mansion's entrance. Should Azusa return and wish to enter, she would certainly knock on the door and when she does, the Spectre would be there to open it for her.

Yes, she was definitely hopeless, the horned woman admitted to herself, but it was not as if she had anything else to do in this mansion. She was merely a prisoner in solitary confinement. If there was anything she could set her mind onto, she would, if only to keep her sanity.

It was almost a week and there was still no sign of the courier.

The Spectre thought about things that could have happened to the black-haired woman after she left. Azusa was still bleeding when she departed the mansion that day. Did she get back to town safely? Did she faint on the way there? Was she attacked by wild animals that were attracted by her blood? Had she been treated? Was she healing well?

Was Azusa alright? Where was she?

The brunette began to dislike her own complexity. She was the one who chased the courier away but now she wished that the black-haired woman would return. She might not know Azusa well, and she still feared her own reactions to strangers, but the Spectre knew she could and probably would give anything to hear the sound of knocking on that door.

But, alas, all she heard was the pitter-patter of raindrops against the walls of the mansion and the perpetual ticking of the grandfather clock.

The Spectre sighed and clutched her legs against her body tighter. She was achingly reminded of the time when she was in her room sick, waiting for someone to enter through the solid oak doorframe and speak to her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how she disliked waiting. Waiting made her feel so helpless.

It made her feel so forgotten.

_Tick, tock._

Was she forgotten once again?

She felt her heart pricked by a thousand needles, and it only made her feel bitter. The brunette immediately shook her head to remove negative thoughts from her mind. Despair had always been her worst enemy and the best lure for the beast that sneered and mocked her. She would not let such consuming emotion take over, not yet anyway.

Azusa might still return, she told herself.

The beast remained silent.

She then shifted, feeling cramped at how she had been sitting, then felt something fall from her lap. With her attention diverted from the windowpane, the Spectre looked down and saw the food pouch that Azusa had left to her. It was mostly empty now; the brittle sound came from the lone biscuit that was left. As a being who had known true hunger, she rationed the food the courier gave her. By doing so, she was able to stretch the few biscuits and the single piece of bread for a couple of days.

She lifted the pouch with her fingers and considered eating the last remaining biscuit. She did not eat the day before, determined to stretch her rations as much as she could. However, hunger was steadily creeping up on her, and she did not want to be that beast again so soon. So, she untied the pouch's opening, fished the final biscuit out of its confines, and looked at it with a sorrowful smile.

This was it, the last piece of sanity she had.

The grandfather clock rumbled and continued to tick behind her, reminding her how futile her wishful thinking was. The Spectre leaned back against the glass cover of the clock's pendulum, feeling the rhythmic vibrations on her back. She looked up and watched the clock's minute hand abandon its stillness and inch towards the next moment. It was like watching herself inching towards subsistence once again.

She bit into hard biscuit, using her fangs to help break the toughened wafer. With a morbid humor, she felt like she was eating her own reason, like she was consuming her own mind with each crunch. In the past… however long it was— the Spectre relived her lonely existence; blindly wandering through the hallways, knowing her world yet not truly seeing.

She supposed that her momentary bout of cognitive clarity was a gift, brought by this courier named Azusa. While she was grateful, a darker portion of mind resented the woman's absence. Did Azusa bring her back to the conscious realm only to make her experience absolute emptiness once again? No, Azusa could not have known her situation and had been kind enough to her already. But where was the courier? The Spectre wished to see her again. She could not have been just a figment of her imagination, right?

Azusa was real, right?

She chewed and finally swallowed the last remnants of the food, and then she pressed her lips together in a thin smile. Now all she had to do was wait to fade into nothingness. The fleeting moments she spent conversing with the courier were her only sources of joy, despite all the fear and blood that came with it. It felt great to speak to someone who spoke back. It felt liberating to watch another person move, and observe that person's facial expressions. Though her hands were now cold, the Spectre could still feel the courier's palm patting her own. She chuckled when she felt a phantom brush, an illusionary sensation on her hand that was deprived of human kindness for so long.

Closing her eyes to relish the only real human contact she had had for a while, the Spectre resigned to her fate. It was only a matter of time before she falls into psychological unconsciousness once again, before the beast awakens to rule over her.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

If she tried hard enough, she might be able to make music out of those monotonous clicks.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_Tick—thud—tock—thud._

The brunette opened her eyes and trained her ears to the foreign sound, hoping that she did not just imagine it. She leaned forward and grasped the pouch tightly in her hand. A whisper almost slipped through her parted lips but the sound did not leave her throat.

_Is someone there…?_

_Azusa…?_

Weak pats echoed through the thin air of the vast room.

The slight sound was quickly overwhelmed by the pounding of her heart. The Spectre straightened and before she realized what she was doing, she was already descending the large staircase to go to the door. She raised a hand towards the fancy doorknob and stopped. She was not hearing things, was she? There was someone beyond the threshold right?

She heard a loud thud that shook the door, and then a pained groan that could not have been a howl of the wind.

The sound snapped the Spectre back into reality and immediately opened the entrance to the mansion.

"A-Azusa?"

The brunette's eyes widened at what she saw. The courier was soaked to the bone. Her hair was in disarray instead of her high ponytail. Her previously sharp carnelian eyes were dull and she was slightly trembling under the weight of her satchel. Her breathing was also labored, and the Spectre could hear faint shuddering gasps as the black-haired woman tried to breathe properly.

"Miss… Ui…" the courier panted through gritted teeth. "Is that… you?"

"Y-yes…" The brunette squeaked, unsure of what to do.

"Good," Azusa sighed in relief, as if she had been holding a part of her breath even though she looked like she already had trouble acquiring air.

"W-what happened to you…?" The Spectre lifted her arms as she watched the black-haired woman lean against the doorframe for support, but she was unable to make herself touch the courier. Her mind was racing. She could detect a faint yet peculiar scent on Azusa, and it made her stomach churn.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

And it did not smell like it was just the courier's own.

"I apologize…" Azusa started while trying to stand straight, "I made you wait."

The brunette shook her head, unable to even think or rejoice about the courier's return. She wished that Azusa would come back, but not like this. The black-haired woman looked like she had been attacked by bandits or something worse. The Spectre was torn between concern and the temptation to scold the foolhardy yet courageous courier. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the shorter woman suddenly lurched forward.

"Azusa!" The brunette caught her visitor by the shoulder, "Y-you're hurt!"

"I-I'm fine," the courier stubbornly insisted even though she could barely push herself away from the Spectre's support.

"No, you're not!" The brunette shifted Azusa but as she did, her bare forearm brushed over the messenger's flushed face.

It was so hot that she almost flinched.

"A-Azusa…" the Spectre started but stopped her question short. The courier was obviously not in good shape at all. "You're burning. Y-you're sick. Oh, God… you shouldn't have come!"

Holding her head in one of her hands, the black-haired woman spoke quietly yet firmly, "I told you I'll come back."

The brunette frowned at the tone of the courier's voice as she examined her pale face. The Spectre determined that there was a bull-headed stubbornness in Azusa that allowed her to travel so far in order to return and speak as if her obvious illness did not matter. Biting her lower lip in uncertainty, she held Azusa at arm's length, supporting her with quivering hands. It was too late to turn the sick woman away, and the town was too far and too foreign for the Spectre to even consider taking her back. Hesitantly, the horned woman suggested, "O-okay… just come inside. You're soaked. You're not well…"

The courier nodded a bit too weakly to settle the Spectre's nerves.

She then guided the messenger into the dry environment of the mansion. From the way Azusa stumbled at every step, the brunette knew that the courier was merely inches away from unconsciousness. She carefully supported the shorter woman, painstakingly ignoring the stench of blood. She shook her head in an attempt to distract her senses away from the metallic scent but when she did so, the courier staggered and almost dropped to the floor.

"Azusa!" Fortunately, the Spectre was able to catch the poor woman by her waist. Any more blows to Azusa's already fragile body would be detrimental, the brunette inwardly told herself. She must be more careful.

But the task proved to be a lot more difficult than it should be because her mind reeled at the odor of blood.

"S-sorry," the courier hissed, "I'm a bit dizzy."

The brunette frowned again but instead of retorting, she spoke with new found resolve, "We need to get you out of these clothes. They'll make your fever worse." Azusa came all the way here just to keep her word, so the least the Spectre could do was take care of her.

Even though she did not receive a response from the shorter woman, she led the courier down the long luxurious hallways lined with paintings, through large rustic doors, and finally into the vast bathroom of the mansion. The whole room was constructed with smooth stone, its dark floor lined with even gray slate, and decorated with extravagant baroque fixtures that made it look like a small piece of history depicting the styles of the renaissance. The bath itself was made out of expensive gray marble; its glass-like sheen set it apart from the other minerals used in the room.

The Spectre whispered encouragement to the exhausted courier before gently settling her down on the floor near a large metal hearth. It used to be a kitchen stove but her father, a brilliant man who loved to tinker with things, had converted it into a mechanism that could heat bath water.

"Where… are we?" Azusa asked breathlessly.

"Bath…" the Spectre replied while she quickly busied herself with starting a fire. Since she bathed not too long ago to wash herself of the blood and grime from her last encounter with the courier, she had left all the firewood she was able to salvage from the mansion here. "I-I'm going to start a fire now. Y-You mustn't stay in those clothes any longer."

However, her panicked state of mind prevented her from focusing on the task at hand, and the lack of sparks quickly frustrated her. The Spectre furrowed her brows in determination and kept trying, using Azusa's shuddering yet heavy breaths to fuel her efforts.

_Tick, tock._

Tense minutes elapsed and still no fire.

_Tick, tock._

"…M-Miss Ui." The courier finally spoke up after noticing that the brunette was not getting anywhere.

The Spectre turned and saw her companion inserting a gloved hand into one of her satchel's smaller compartments. "Y-you shouldn't move too much," she said meekly, genuinely concerned for the woman's well-being.

Yet Azusa ignored her and continued to search. The brunette left her place by the hearth to kneel by the courier's side. She could not make herself stop the woman, however, because even though she carried the mailwoman all the way here, fearful instinct prevented her from moving her hands. They remained petrified by her side.

"H-here." The courier extracted a small object from her bag, "A flint. It should help."

It was only when Azusa offered the item that the brunette was able to make her hands move. The courier deposited the flint into the horned woman's palm before her tired limb dropped on her lap. After curiously appraising the item on her palm, the Spectre immediately went back to the hearth, tearing a piece of fabric from her dress to use as tinder. She then awkwardly took the dark piece of flint stone and held it against a small metal rod that was attached to it, unsure of how the tiny items were supposed to make a fire. When she made one for her bath a couple of days prior, it took her hours of rubbing dried wood against each other. Was she supposed to do the same with these?

"Just strike them against each other." The brunette stiffened when the courier suddenly spoke. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Azusa, though barely conscious, cold, and still in pain, watched her with fatigued eyes and offered guidance. The Spectre nodded her head and did as she was told.

She struck the flint against the metal rod and jumped with a loud yelp, unprepared for the bright sparks that the fire-making items produced, and landed quite painfully on her rear.

Her sudden exclamation surprised her guest as well since Azusa swiftly asked, "Are you alright, Miss Ui?"

Embarrassed, the brunette quickly nodded, "Y-yes… I just haven't used these before… I… um…"

"Oh…" the courier blinked in realization, "Let me then…"

The Spectre blanched when the black-haired woman forced herself to move. "No! Just stay there… I can do it. I was just… s-startled. I'm sorry."

Azusa stopped and watched her inquisitively with those carnelian eyes. Glad that the courier heeded her words, the Spectre resumed what she needed to do. She turned back towards the hearth and the firewood within, and struck the flint again. Unfamiliar with the tool, the brunette took a few tries before she figured out how to properly aim the flint's sparks towards the fabric that served as her tinder.

After one last strike, a small flame came to life, weak but brilliant.

The Spectre inwardly sighed in relief. At least she knew how to take care of an existing fire. She patiently raised the tiny flame by feeding it a bit more fabrics torn from her dress before giving it splinters of wood. Quickly, it grew into a sizeable and functioning blaze.

Wiping her sweat with the back of her hand, the brunette turned back towards the sick woman leaning against the wall. "A-Azusa…?"

The courier opened her tired carnelian eyes at the gentle call. The weak gesture germinated a sensation of dread in the Spectre's chest. "I'm going to move you near the fire, okay?"

The brunette forced her hands to move and touch the black-haired woman, but even her best efforts only allowed her to grasp the courier's wet coat. Gently supporting Azusa, the Spectre moved her near the hearth so that the fire's warmth would be able to reach the feverish messenger.

"Thank you," The messenger murmured tiredly and relaxed against the wall she was settled against. The brunette pressed her lips together into an uneasy smile just to show that she accepted the gratitude.

As the horned woman was about to move away, the courier's hand accidentally brushed against the Spectre's forearm as its owner returned it onto her lap. Her damp and stained gloved hand brought a chill up the brunette's spine.

The frigid touch did not sit well with her.

Frantic once again, the brunette quickly brought her clawed hands on the courier's and immediately took the wet gloves off Azusa's trembling digits. The sight of their ashen shade drenched her in cold fear.

"A-Azusa, y-you need to take those clothes off," The horned woman uttered almost incoherently, unsure if she was in a position to say such a thing. "It… it's not helping your fever."

Before the brunette could even finish her stuttering, Azusa nodded and started unbuttoning her coat with great difficulty. Her fingers were so cold that she could not move them with their usual dexterity. After seeing how much the courier struggled, the Spectre willed her own hands to move. She must help or Azusa might become worse. She must quell the fear and uncertainty to reach out.

She squeezed her eyelids together to gather courage before opening them again and clasping the courier's freezing hands in her own.

"Miss Ui…?"

"S-sorry but l-let me help," The Spectre stuttered but her tone still held a strong determination to offer her aid.

The brunette then stared at the tired but curious gaze that seemed to scrutinize her, only to falter and look away. Those weary carnelian eyes were as piercing as ever and they made the Spectre uncomfortable. It was only after the courier's weak nod that she even dared continue.

Carefully, the brunette helped the messenger out of her soaked coat, taking great care not to aggravate the wounds she knew were there. The Spectre had to shake her head to remove the pungent stench of blood that have been plaguing her nose since Azusa arrival, but she persevered until she was able to toss the soiled coat away. Returning her gaze towards the courier, her eyes widened at the sight of black-haired woman's state. The white shirt that was part of her messenger's uniform was also soaked, and it held a tinge of red that became darker and darker as the Spectre's eyes drew near her shoulder. She opened her mouth to ask once again but decided against it when she saw Azusa shiver despite being so close to an open flame.

The brunette inwardly berated herself for wavering, inhaled shakily, and continued to remove the courier's wet clothes. The black-haired woman seemed to become weaker and weaker by the moment so the Spectre must hurry.

"_Modesty? Illness observes no modesty."_

_That's right…_

"Modesty means nothing to a corpse…" The Spectre found herself whispering under her breath as she heard her father's voice echoing in her mind. Biting her lip to remove any more horrid memories from surfacing, the brunette busied herself with the courier's bloodied shirt. Irresolute fingers undid the buttons one by one as their owner battled emerging memories with the desire to help.

"Miss Ui…" Azusa croaked in her delirium, "… tears... again."

The Spectre blinked and instinctively wiped her eyes with a forearm only discover that there were indeed tears leaking from them. The brunette forced a smile, grateful that the courier pulled her away from her demons again in spite of the situation. After the final button came off, the Spectre peeled the translucent blood-stained fabric from Azusa's body, and winced at the sight of the even darker red staining the courier's undershirt. The dampness was even more widespread on the darker colored garment, making the Spectre wonder just how bad Azusa's injuries were. Just how did she travel all the way out here?

After studying the dark-haired woman's half-lidded eyes, the Spectre carefully hooked her fingers around the hem of the undergarment and urged the courier to lift her arms. Cautiously, the brunette lifted the shirt off, taking great care not to aggravate Azusa's injured joint. She then slowly slid the wet material off the courier's head and pale shoulders, revealing the bleeding wound underneath. Judging from the even stitches still visible through the blood that oozed out of the wound, the suture had been properly treated before it was aggravated.

Fear flickered in the Spectre's eyes. There was little she could do about the wound.

She glanced at Azusa's pale face to somehow dispel the sense of helplessness that started to bud in the pit of her stomach. The tear was not very wide, so the courier's primary foe right now was the cold.

The black-haired woman shuddered as if to affirm her speculations.

The Spectre completely undressed the courier so that her skin may be free of the chilly rainwater and be able to regain heat. After tossing the bloodied garments to the opposite side of the bathroom, the brunette turned her attention to the blazing flame in the hearth. The room was considerably warmer now thanks to the fire but she knew that it might not be enough for the shivering woman.

"A-Azusa?" The Spectre spoke softly, as if waking a child from her nap, "Do you have spare clothes in your bag?"

The courier opened her eyes tiredly and regarded the brunette for a moment before nodding feebly.

The brunette hesitated, feeling that the slight nod was not enough consent for her to rummage through another person's belongings, but she steeled her resolve. She did not want to leave the courier alone just to search the mansion for some dusty covering. And so, the Spectre shifted from where she knelt to pull the messenger's satchel towards her. Uncovering the flap, the brunette searched the bag and felt her eyes dampen upon discovering what lied within.

Inside the bag were pouches of the food Azusa promised to bring to her.

The Spectre spared another glance at the courier before extracting the provisions from the satchel. She would certainly thank Azusa later for her thoughtfulness and kindness but for now, she must find something to cover the courier with. The brunette continued to search and found sets of clothes, tightly packed near the bottom of the bag. Underneath the spare clothes was a rough blanket that had the same color as Azusa's coat. Perhaps the courier used it when she was forced to sleep outdoors.

Unfolding the blanket and spreading it over the sick woman's form, the Spectre said, "Hang on, the water should be warm enough soon."

Azusa did not say anything. Only her weary eyes told the brunette that she was still awake.

The brunette turned her attention back towards the flame in the hearth. She tossed another sizeable piece of wood inside before standing up and walking towards the other side of the marble bath tub. Approaching the looming angel statue that hung from the stone wall, the Spectre took a hanging chain right underneath the marble bust in her hand and pulled, releasing water into the bath. As she watched warm water flow from the vase the statue held, the brunette absently thought of her father, who had placed so much effort in renovating this room in order to put one of his inventions to the test.

That man had been so warm, so happy.

_So was I…_

But like the steam that quickly enveloped the vast bathroom, terrible recollections quickly blurred the image of a smiling man who was so eager to show his daughters his new contraption.

The sound of quiet coughing tore her away from her thoughts.

The Spectre hastily returned to the courier's side. She gently held the woman by the shoulder and was pleased to know that Azusa was not as cold as she was earlier.

"Azusa…" the brunette started, trying to catch the messenger's unfocused carnelian eyes with her own umber ones even though the gesture made her uncomfortable. "Let me help you get in the bath. The water will warm you up, alright?" She said kindly, "I'll help you clean up as well."

Slowly, she helped the black-haired woman to her feet as the brown blanket fell from the courier's body. When she noticed that Azusa barely had enough energy to walk, the brunette shouldered most of the courier's weight. Upon reaching the bath's edge, she seated Azusa on the warm marble surface and gently swung the black-haired woman's legs into the tepid bath water. The courier flinched at the heat and made the Spectre freeze in place, unwilling to hurt her further.

"Azusa…?"

A gratified sigh answered her.

Taking the soft sound as a sign that the courier was alright, the brunette slowly and steadily lowered her into the lukewarm water.

The Spectre watched as diluted red dispersed through the clear liquid of the bath, freeing the black-haired woman's limbs of crimson and maroon stains. Knowing that Azusa might not be able to bathe herself properly considering the circumstances, the brunette wondered how she might offer her help. She was worried that she would injure the courier again if she touched Azusa with her sharp claws. Searching the bathroom, she saw the piece of cloth she found on the staircase the day after Azusa left. The long piece of fabric hung on another angel statue's arm where she left it a few days prior after she attempted to wash it.

After making sure that the courier was secure in the large tub, the horned woman stood up to retrieve the said cloth and immediately dipped it in the warm water. As she lifted it from the water to fold and wring it, the Spectre became more aware of how familiar the fabric was to her. Under careful scrutiny, the cloth looked a lot like a scarf, if one ignored its unusual thinness because of its aged appearance. Its original color was a pale rose hue, but because of the blood stains that refused to be washed off, the scarf now held an unmistakable maroon pattern of dried blood. What truly brought the Spectre into bouts of nostalgia was the distinct embroidery the fabric had. Two fishes were drawn and carefully knit on it, facing each other much like the twin fishes of stars of her birth.

"_Hurry, hurry!"_

"_I'm coming!"_

_Two pairs of feet crushed dead leaves on the forest floor._

"_Did you bring the leftover vegetables?"_

_A pair of auburn eyes twinkled in mirth. "Of course I did!"_

"_Do turtles really eat lettuce?"_

"_Yeah! I fed it some cucumbers the other day."_

"_But I read they eat fishes. Are you sure it's okay, Sister? I don't want your pet to get sick."_

"_It's okay~ it'll be fine. Mother said they eat both fishes and veggies."_

The Spectre shook her head to remove the distant memory from her mind. The scarf she held could not possibly be the one she wore around her neck so long ago. She was not the only one who was born under that constellation after all.

Yet she could not recall where she last left the said garment before her rapid descent from humanity began.

The brunette pried her eyes away from the scarf and returned them to the courier, only to find that Azusa was already dozing, lulled to sleep by the warmth of the bathwater.

She blinked, "Azusa…?" But she did not get a reply. At a loss, the Spectre still attempted to wash the sleeping courier and found the task easier without those piercing carnelian eyes watching her. Carefully, she wiped the messenger's face with the wet scarf and removed all the mud and grime that marred it. Next, the Spectre cleansed the courier's uninjured shoulder before moving onto the one that had a bleeding suture. She remembered how her father used to treat wounds when she was still a child, and how careful he had been in cleaning them. She just hoped that she had his dexterity and would not harm the courier even more.

Fortunately, her touch had been gentle enough that she only elicited a small hiss from the sleeping woman as she wiped the sticky blood away from the open wound. It had stopped bleeding, and aside from the red washed off by the wet cloth, nothing else oozed out.

The Spectre dipped the scarf in the water again as she sat on the bath's edge near Azusa. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that she must wash the courier's long lustrous black hair as well because of the small twigs and leaves that jotted out from those silky locks. The messenger must have gone through low hanging branches so vegetation got caught in her hair, or she had fallen on the forest floor. The brunette frowned worriedly as she imagined the worst. Her heart ached at the thought of this kind courier marching from that faraway town in this condition. She had done nothing to deserve such kindness, such resolve.

She could only remember one person who have shown her true compassion, and bitterly pushed the image of a picturesque smile deep within the confines of her mind immediately. That person was no more and she was not coming back.

Minding her sharp claws, the Spectre proceeded to pull out the small twigs and leaves from Azusa's hair and became amazed at the unfamiliar texture of the courier's locks. They felt as smooth as they looked, reminding the brunette of her mother's hair, and how ragged her own must be in comparison. Gently, she combed the courier's long mane with the back of her claws until most of the debris had been removed. Then, as if entranced, the Spectre began to wipe Azusa's hair with the damp scarf, washing off the dirt that remained on those midnight strands. The black-haired woman remained inert aside from the slightest of movements under her eyelids, perhaps lost in a dream.

Similarly, the Spectre was lost in her own world in which the happy sounds of young girls laughing echoed instead of the noise from the intense downpour that drummed outside the manor's walls.

_Splash!_

"_Hahaha! Take that!"_

_Whoosh!_

"_Sister, we're making a mess!"_

_Mirthful giggles._

"_Daddy said we can play, so don't worry~!"_

"_Are you sure—kya!"_

"_Hehe~ yeah!"_

_Splish~_

"_Not fair!"_

_Another whoosh. _

"_C'mon, play with me~"_

"_O-okay."_

_Splash!_

"_Ah!"_

_Laughter._

"_Girls?"_

"_Daddy!"_

"_Err… I should have known you two will make a lake in here, heh, so how is it? Is the water warm enough?"_

"_Mhmm!"_

"_Yeah! This is great, Daddy. You're the best!"_

"_Nothing less for my little angels. I'll leave your towels and clothes here, alright?"_

"_Kay~"_

_Splish, splash!_

"_Ten more minutes, okay?"_

"_Aww~"_

"_Ui just recovered from her cold, Darling."_

"_But the water's warm~"_

_An exasperated sigh._

"_Alright, fifteen."_

"_Yay!"_

_An amused chuckle._

"_Thank you, Daddy."_

"_You're welcome, Sweetie."_

_Splash!_

"_Siiiiis~"_

"_Got you!"_

_Laughter._

"Mmm…" The sound of Azusa's mumblings erased the peals of merriment in her mind, and brought the Spectre back into present reality. She had drizzled a bit of water on the courier's head so she might be able to clean Azusa's hair better, but the sensation of the trickling liquid had awakened her.

"O-oh, I didn't mean to wake you…" The brunette spoke softly.

"Miss Ui…?"

"Yes. It's me," She responded, "How are you feeling?"

The courier did not speak; instead, her deep carnelian eyes looked at the Spectre curiously before roaming her gaze around the steaming room, trying to get reacquainted with her surroundings.

Setting the wet scarf down on her lap, the horned woman tried to explain, "You dozed off… I've been trying to clean you as much as I could. I needed to wash the b-blood away so, um…"

"Ah…" Azusa still looked so drained and, from what the Spectre noticed, her eyelids remained heavy. The brunette examined her for a while more, waiting for the courier to utter something, anything, but it was evident that she was going to succumb to slumber again due to her fever and fatigue. The Spectre's eyes softened in empathy for she knew just how draining it was to be so exhausted and to be plagued by persistent misery.

After the sick woman drifted off, the brunette resumed washing her by gently running the scarf's damp softness down Azusa's hair. She carefully poured a small amount of water on the courier's head once, then twice, and watched as the silken strands regain their former luster. As she continued to work, the Spectre could not help but admire the black-haired woman's locks even more.

She remembered brushing similarly dazzling hair almost every night in the past.

"_Sister?"_

"_Hmm? You should be sleeping. You're not completely well yet. Hehe~ couldn't sleep?"_

"_Oh, no, I just went to the washroom and saw your light is still on. It's late, you should sleep too."_

"_I will~" A tired yawn, "I just want to finish these notes Dad gave to me earlier."_

"_You haven't even changed into your nightgown."_

"_Ehe~ I lost track of time."_

"_Here, let me comb your hair or else sparrows will nest on your head."_

_A sheepish grin._

"_What am I going to do with you, dear Sister?"_

"_Aww, am I being scolded?"_

"_Hush, of course not." Chuckles of endearment floated in the midnight air. "Besides, I haven't brushed your hair for a while now. I miss it."_

"_I'm so blessed~"_

"_You sure are."_

_Quiet giggles danced in the room for a while before the lazy sound of brushing and a content hum replaced it. _

"_Now, you're making me sleepy."_

"_I'm almost done, and then you can sleep, hm?"_

"_Okay~ you really are the best!"_

The Spectre smiled in spite of herself as she ran the scarf against Azusa's cheek one last time to push a dark lock of hair away from the courier's face. Then unexpectedly, the brunette felt the black-haired woman press her cheek against her wrist while mumbling something incoherent. The Spectre froze, surprised and unsure how to react. Was Azusa suffering from delirium or was she simply dreaming? The answer came to the brunette quickly and decided that it might be best to remove the courier from the water. Even though the lukewarm bath was a heaven sent gift to Azusa's freezing body, it may also be detrimental if she overheated in her state.

Worried, the horned woman gingerly nudged the courier and spoke softly, "Azusa, wake up."

However, there was no response. The brunette frowned at the unconscious woman and bit her lips nervously. The Spectre drained the water from the bath as she thought about what she could do in this situation. She could try to wake Azusa again but she doubted that the messenger would open her eyes. She knew the feeling of being so sick and so tired that she could not even lift her eyelids. The courier looked stable anyway and her slumber was probably caused by exhaustion, not some grave malady.

She wiped the messenger dry the best she could with the damp scarf and stepped into the drained bath. Delicately, she slipped an arm underneath the courier's knees and snaked the other around her back. She then lifted the sleeping woman from where she sat and strained to reach for the dark brown blanket on the floor. Gently, she wrapped the cloth around Azusa's lithe frame and, after steeling herself, she lifted the courier with relative ease. The Spectre still needed to take a few steadying breaths before even attempting to take the first step. Then, she calmed her racing heart with hazy memories of being stronger than she used to be. She could not have been able to lift Azusa before because she had always been so physically weak. But she managed to do so now, so perhaps she could also carry the smaller woman back into the mansion's parlor where she could settle Azusa to rest and recuperate.

The brunette carried Azusa out of the bathroom and retraced her steps back towards the mansion's parlor, where she had treated the courier after their fateful chase a week ago. She kept her eyes on Azusa as she walked and wondered why the dark-haired woman had such an anxious expression on her face. There was a fearful knot on her brow and the grimace she had implied that she was also gritting her teeth. The courier's pained expression made the Spectre feel helpless, unable to do anything to remedy the obvious hurt the sick woman was experiencing. She knew that it was just a feverish nightmare but when Azusa visibly grasped her blanket and trembled, the brunette could not help but hold her tighter, hoping the gesture could somewhat help the courier's troubled psyche.

"Shh…" The horned woman whispered into the wind, uncertain if her quiet words would even reach the messenger's ears, "You're not alone. Don't be afraid."

Those were the words that her sister used to tell her whenever her fear of the world resurfaced after she woke up from her own nightmares, and they comforted her like no other gesture could. However, Azusa only grimaced even more and let out a strangled murmur that made the brunette more worried.

At a loss, she did the only she thing she could think of and hummed a distant lullaby. She did not even remember what song it was or where she had heard it, but she no longer cared the moment the woman she carried gradually calmed down and settled less fitfully in her arms. Emboldened by Azusa's reaction, the brunette hummed a bit louder, hoping that her untrained voice could chase away whatever phantoms the courier saw in her dreams. She might not be able to save herself from her own nightmares but she could spare Azusa from her own.

The Spectre then heard the courier sigh and watched her rest her dark-haired head against the brunette's shoulder. Bewildered, the horned woman returned her gaze from the dimly-lit hallway towards the person she carried. Umber eyes softened at the sight of Azusa's less troubled demeanor, thankful that the courier's nightmare had passed, at least for now.

After she managed to open the parlor's doors, the brunette laid the dark-haired woman onto the couch, the very same furniture where she let Azusa sleep as she treated her wounds the week before. She placed a pillow under the courier's head and tucked her snuggly underneath the woolen blanket. Azusa was still flushed with fever, but the Spectre assumed that the messenger would sleep soundly for a while longer. The brunette decided to gather all the items they had left in the bathroom in the meantime. She then glanced at the dark fireplace on the other side of the room and reminded herself that she must also start a fire here if she wanted Azusa to recover.

Sparing the courier one last glance, the Spectre left the room and blended into the darkness of the mansion once again. However, unlike before, she held a purpose and a solemn promise.

_I will help you._

_Tick, tock._

* * *

><p>Tick, tock.<p>

_A girl with chestnut colored hair slowly opened her eyes and saw the white canopy of her bed. Weary and feeling albeit stiff, she gingerly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. This was probably the first time she had woken up for days but she was not sure. All she could remember were the fitful dreams and the feeling of fatigue in her rarely used muscles._

_She disliked feeling so exhausted all the time and she detested feeling pain even more, but what could she do? Even though she had only seen fourteen summers, she already felt like she was a century old with her bones creaking and her flesh throbbing with unknown afflictions. Sometimes even the slightest of chores would render her sick in bed for days, or a couple of hours spent outside the mansion's walls would cripple her breathing so much that her parents would forbid her from going outside for weeks. _

_She knew little about the outside world. The sight she was most familiar with was the white canopy of her bed._

_The girl continued to rub her eyes before yawning and attempting to sit up. _

_Immediately, she noticed the soft sound of even breathing next to her and saw a mass of unkempt brown hair. Chuckling to herself, the bedridden girl reached out and ran her slim fingers through her guardian's locks, earning a sleepy purr then a startled slurp that can only come from one who had been drooling while she slept. _

_Disoriented, the sleeping girl lifted her head and quickly looked at her charge. "Oh, Ui, you're awake!"_

"_And you were sleeping," the chestnut haired girl giggled as she attempted to smooth out her sister's bed hair. _

"_Hehe~… I'm sorry. I guess I kind of dozed off."_

"_What were you doing?" the younger brunette asked inquisitively as she looked at the pair of knitting needles and balls of yarn strewn over her large bed. "Making something?"_

"_Oh…" the older girl blinked and looked at a loss for words for a few moments, as if she realized that she should have cleaned up sooner. "Yeah," she chuckled sheepishly as she fiddled her thumbs, "I was making you a scarf for when we go out next time. I guess it won't be much of a surprise now, will it?"_

_The younger girl giggled in unadulterated amusement, quite charmed by her sister's unpredictable ways. "You're so silly, Sister, but I'll still treasure it."_

"_Really?"_

_She bobbed her head, "Really. I promise. I think this is the first time you've even tried knitting." She could not help but continue to chuckle at the thought of her typically uncoordinated sister trying to master the domestic art of knitting. "May I see it?"_

"_But it's not finished!"_

_The girl smiled and held an expression of slight exasperation on her face. "Okay then…"_

_Her sister let out a small sigh of relief, "How are you feeling today?"_

"_Better," the girl said cheerfully, "A bit stiff but that's because I've been in bed for a while. Will you walk with me later, Sister? Walking takes it away."_

"_Of course I will," her sister's smile widened and looked at her with genuine happiness glistening in her auburn eyes, "I'm glad, you really do look better today."_

"_See?" _

"_Did you have a nice dream? You were smiling when I was knitting."_

"_Hmm?" the chestnut haired girl thought for a moment, "I don't really remember but I guess so. I didn't see anything scary, and I think I befriended someone in my dream."_

"_That's good. I hate to see you having nightmares, Ui. You always look paler when you get nightmares." The older girl then leaned over to brush a lock of hair away from her sister's face and cupped her cheek. "Dreams heal. I can see you had good dreams this time and I'm glad." She smiled softly before reaching over to kiss the younger girl's forehead and giving her a hug._

"_Did I worry you again?" _

"_You always will, Ui, but that's okay! You're my baby sister after all, and I love you. It's a big sister's job to worry, yes?"_

"_But I don't want you to worry."_

"_Hehe~ then feel better!" The older girl rubbed her head against her sister's as she cuddled the younger girl, "So there will be no more reasons to worry."_

_The umber-eyed girl giggled at the rather childish display of affection, and utterly enjoyed the contact. Her sister really made her feel loved. "I _am_ better."_

"_In that case," her sister declared as she held her at arm's length, "do you want something to eat? It'll give you some energy."_

_Even though she did not feel particularly hungry, she nodded, "Okay."_

"_I made you some porridge!"_

"_Y-you did?" She tried not to sound so surprised. It was quite rare for her sister to cook by herself since the older girl was typically more concerned about the chores their father gave her. _

"_Mhmm! I had Mother help me so I promise it won't make you sick," the older girl chuckled awkwardly, "Although I think it's quite cold now. Um, let me go heat it up first okay?"_

"_Okay." The sickly girl beamed and giggled once more as her sister kissed her temple before happily skipping out of her room, carrying all the knitting materials with her. _

_Happy and feeling healthy for once, the umber-eyed girl waited patiently for her sister to return and trained her gaze outside the windows. The sky was brilliantly blue and she could hear birds chirping from the trees as they hopped from one branch to another. It was as if she had woken up from a dream that consisted of different shades of gray, and was welcomed into this world of color. _

_She lifted her arms and stretched stiffly to loosen the tight knots brought by long hours of sleep and being bedridden for days. She then reached over for her comb on the nightstand next to her bed and gingerly brushed her hair. She would love to bathe later if her condition allowed it, but, for now, she settled for this simple grooming. As she brushed her shoulder-length chestnut locks, she thought of the friend that accompanied her in her dreams. The creature had a long black tail and spoke in such a formal yet kind tone. It had dark rose-colored eyes but they held no malice in them. The girl felt like she should be wary of that shadowy figure in her dreams but she did not feel any fear despite its dark appearance. Was it a ghost? A phantom? A benevolent spectre?_

_Her sister returned some minutes later, disrupting the girl's thoughts. The older brunette was mixing a bowl of porridge. Even though she had only entered the room, the delicious aroma of the food awakened the sickly girl's appetite. "I really hope you'll like this," her sister said unsurely as she sat on the girl's bedside, "I tried my best though!"_

_The chestnut-haired girl only giggled in response, "Oh, I'm sure it's delicious."_

_The older girl's smile faded as she handed the bowl towards her younger sister. She then revealed a small pouch in her hand, "Father said you should take this…"_

"_Oh…" the umber-eyed girl stared at the pouch, knowing what it held, "…o-okay."_

"_I.." her sister started, "I really hope this will help you, Ui."_

_She only smiled in response as the older girl sprinkled white powder into her porridge. _

No, I don't want it…

"_I don't want to give it to you either."_

Then why…?

"_I don't want to see you suffer."_

I… I'd rather suffer…

"_This is the last one…"_

"_What do you mean, Sister?"_

"_You don't need to take any more after this…"_

"…_okay."_

Don't cry… I'll take anything just please don't cry.

"_You're such a good girl…"_

Stop crying. Do you not know how much it hurts me?

"_I-I'm sorry for not being a better sister to you."_

Stop it…

"_I tried…"_

Even though her world became blanketed in darkness, the quiet sound of sobbing did not waver. Instead, it became even more pronounced as she heard a sniffle and the sound of restless rustling.

"I tried," the voice whimpered pathetically, "I tried, Mother."

The Spectre fitfully opened her eyes as the blaze in the fireplace cackled. Disoriented, the brunette rubbed her eyelids with the back of her hand before reality flooded her mind.

"P-please… take me with you."

The horned woman immediately turned towards the source of the distressed pleas and found Azusa gripping the layers of blankets as she cried in her sleep. Suddenly reminded of all the events that occurred since the messenger returned, the Spectre shifted onto her knees to take a better look at her charge. The courier was soaked in sweat and she tossed and turned where she lied, obviously lost in a bad dream. Tears streamed down Azusa's pale face and grief was painted on her expression. The Spectre knew from experience that whatever the courier was dreaming about could be even more painful than the illness itself. Taking a small piece of cloth from the black-haired woman's forehead, the brunette dipped in it cool water before returning it to where it was.

_Her fever hasn't broken,_ the Spectre thought worriedly as she gingerly touched the woman's cheek, momentarily forgetting her own qualms and bittersweet memories. She helplessly watched the courier suffer in delirium while she desperately asked herself what she could do for Azusa, but nothing came. She had always been the one being watched over, not the other way around. She had never nursed another person before. Despite her lack of experience, however, the Spectre knew that if the courier did not recover soon, her fever just might claim her life.

She searched her hazy memories for her father's words and her sister's guidance. They often told her what she could and could not do to prevent illness, and what she should do when there was nobody around to help her when she was sick. Unfortunately, such steps required taking medicine, something that she did not have on hand. Returning her umber gaze to Azusa, the brunette became afraid.

She did not want this good courier to die.

The Spectre tentatively placed her left hand over Azusa's in hopes that the touch would stop the intense quivering of the woman's hand. As she did so, she noticed the wrappings binding her own palm and remembered their purpose. Azusa stabbed a knife through her limb when she was last here, awakening her and bringing her back into a dim pillar of light, far away from the pitch black darkness of her cognizance. She did not feel the wound now, only a stubborn stiffness that came with scar tissue. The injury did not embitter the brunette; instead, she felt utter gratitude.

Azusa saved her that day, so she vowed to do the same.

The courier suddenly gripped her hand as she continued to battle the sorrows of her nightmares. The brunette, empathetic to the sick woman's plight, closed her fingers around Azusa's smaller digits.

"Azusa…" She whispered softly, wishing to cry along with the courier.

The Spectre remained where she was and just held Azusa's hand. She could hear the relentless ticking of the grandfather clock from the hallway, feeling it through her bones, and counted somberly.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

As she felt time pass by, she recalled distant murmurs from her past. They were mostly unintelligible babbles but the Spectre felt something coming back to her as she listened. She had been locked up in her own mind for so long that details about the very prison she lived in were forgotten under the incapacitating stillness of time. She wanted to forget them back then, but now she commanded them to return. They just might help her save Azusa.

"_Good news! Father discovered something awesome!"_

"_Really? That's great!"_

"_Yeah, yeah! It cured the mice without a hitch! This might be the medicine we're looking for! Although I think it's weird that it's from mold."_

"_M-mold? Isn't that bad?"_

"_I don't know but it did what it did. We'll try our best, Sis! We'll have that—what did Father call it again—P. noto… nota… noti… blah! I'm sorry I can't pronounce it, Ui~"_

"_You're so silly, Sister."_

"_Hehe~"_

The Spectre squeezed Azusa's hand a little tighter as she gained some courage about the problem at hand. It had been so long but there was a chance that some of the medicines she had taken back when she was sick were still here, and they could help the courier's condition.

She felt the black-haired woman's grip slacken. Azusa appeared to have gotten past her nightmare and had settled back into dreamless sleep. Quietly releasing an anxious breath, the Spectre reclaimed her hand and removed the damp towel from the courier's forehead to dip it in cold water once again. After wringing the said fabric, the brunette laid it back on the sick woman's head before standing up.

The Spectre glanced at Azusa and wondered if she also looked so small to her sister as well when she was sick. She wondered if her sister felt this pang of helplessness as she watched her suffer. She wondered if she had hurt her sister for being so vulnerable. There was this distinct sting in her chest as she mulled over the different expressions that her dearest angel had shown her in the past. Those smiles, all those laughter, were they all masks?

_They must be._ _Do not be foolish. She couldn't have been happy back then._

The brunette tore her gaze away from the courier and, after making sure that the fire in the fireplace would remain blazing, she left the room to fulfill her mission. Subconscious memory led her through the long hallways that were only partially lit by the muted sunlight that entered through dirty windows. But even though her body knew where she was heading, her mind started panicking once again like a nervous hare. Her fear was instinctual because she did not know when the beast within will start wrestling her weary conscience for dominance. She had limited her range in the mansion in order to minimize the potential of being attacked by her inner phantoms, so this risky venture had upped her nerves. She ran her clawed hands against the walls just to make sure she could still feel and prove that she was indeed in reality, not some made up illusion.

She kept her eyes forward to avoid the lifeless stares of old and discolored paintings, and decorative armors that lined the passages. Although she was well aware that these inanimate objects had no life, the Spectre felt so exposed. Two stone busts seemed to judge her as they reached for the ceiling with their life-like arms despite their headless physique. Their muscles appeared contorted and the angry gashes on their pained bodies painted vivid images of suffering faces into the Spectre's mind.

She soon found herself standing in front of a large hardwood door. The brunette remembered this portal in her memories, and how it led into her father's study. She also remembered the various bottles and canisters of stuffs that he used to work with in there. She held the door's knob with a fearful hand and twisted it, letting the heavy door open itself. As the aperture widened, the Spectre found her nose assaulted by various smells, all unnatural and hostile her to senses. She quickly covered her nose with her bound hand as she saw familiar visages floating within her vision.

_No…_

She collapsed against the opposite wall of the corridor, growling. They were back, those empty words and frantic calls. She saw tears that do not belong to her flow down white cheeks and mixing with the brilliant scarlet of blood. She heard wordless screams of agony, accusations of betrayal, and howls of fear.

_No! Not now! I must remain!_

"_Is there a purer form of love than this deep color of wine? No, there isn't. Nothing is more potent than this. Nothing is more compelling than the color of blood. Nothing is more addicting…"_

Terror that was not her own clenched her limbs, freezing them in place, and damning her to watch this horrifying scene of red. Maroon carpeted the floor while numerous instruments reflected the angry brilliance of flaming torches that hung against the walls. There was someone, a man, hanging from the ceiling and wrapped in rusted chains. Then there were others, imprisoned in cells, reaching out through the iron bars, begging for mercy or crying in sheer agony.

Their cries echoed within the Spectre's skull yet they did not sound like people.

If anything, they moaned like death itself.

"_Join me!"_

_No…_

"_Come dine!"_

_Tick, tock._

"_You can't resist for too long. You'll fall too."_

_I must stay here. I must help her!_

"_You're nothing but a monster."_

_M-monster?_

"_A shadow just like me."_

_I-I'm…_

_Dong~_

…_not…a monster._

_Dong~_

_I need to save Azusa. Only I can… no one else._

_Dong~_

Feeling the vibrations of the clock's chime against her back, the Spectre's vision cleared from its momentary delusions as her pupils regained their function. She panted against the wall, her hand still pressed tightly against her face as she steadied her own psyche. She almost—no, she did regress. She knew the signs well, and she was aware that she did immerse herself in insanity again.

Her heart raced as she remained frozen where she sat.

_I was… spared?_

The Spectre removed her hand from her nose and mouth, and found that the thick smells of burnt herbs and acidic concoctions have dissipated. She could still scent them but at least the odor was faint, allowing her to breathe normally without seizing. She struggled to calm her breathing before shakily pushing herself up from the wall she leaned against. From where she stood, she could see the numerous shelves that lined her father's workshop. Light from the windows gave them a frightening silhouette and exposed various containers and books on each console. Perhaps one of those bottles contained the powder she was looking for.

Gathering resolve, the Spectre took a deep breath and held it before marching into the room. She made a beeline towards the closed windows and immediately opened them so the remaining smells would disappear. She perched herself at the window for a while and rubbed her stinging eyes. She took a moment to breathe in the fresh outdoor air before diving back into the room.

Determined, the Spectre rummaged through the shelves and sifted through all the dusty labeled bottles that were arranged in them. All she had was half a name, but if it would save her savior then she vowed to find it. She remembered the effects of that powder; it had been potent and it had cured some of her symptoms when she was sick. However, she quickly found out that she could also get sick from taking it so her father stopped administering the medicine to her so he could work on it a bit more. It was a miracle drug if only it did not backfire.

_But if I don't try, she will die. _

Clumsy hands with an anxious purpose continued to rummage through the bottles until the muted sunlight revealed a tiny bottle with a white label. On it was her father's graceful cursive.

_P. notatum._

_This must be it._ The Spectre thought as she looked upon the bottle that fitted so delicately in her palm. She quickly lifted the container towards the light to inspect if it still had contents, and found that it was indeed half-full of whatever concoction her father had created. Elated, the brunette turned her heel and returned to the parlor as fast as she could without tripping over her own claws.

When she entered, she found Azusa was still sleeping comfortably, or at least she slept soundly without feverish nightmares. Upon closer inspection, however, the courier still burned with fever and sweat continuously trickled down her face.

The horned woman kneeled near the sleeping messenger and wondered how she should give the medicine to Azusa. Her father mixed it with her food and that made her sick even though her other ailments healed rather quickly. The Spectre then glanced at the courier's wounded shoulder and wondered if applying the powder directly to the wound would make it heal faster. After all, the medicine would not need to travel from Azusa's stomach towards the wound. The brunette deliberated with herself as she stared at the tiny bottle.

_What should I do?_

The courier's slight shift prompted the Spectre to do the only thing she could do right then. The longer she idled the worse Azusa might become, so she must act. She straightened herself and leaned over the sleeping woman as she uncorked the bottled powder. She gingerly pulled the blanket down to fully expose Azusa's wound under the dim luminosity of the fireplace. The gash had already stopped bleeding, however, making the brunette rethink her decision.

Should she risk it?

It was the courier who answered her question with a pained mewl as her nightmares returned. The Spectre wished to wake her but that would not do her any good. Steeling herself, she reached for the black-haired woman's shoulder and examined the wound carefully before sprinkling some of the medicine over it. _Will that be enough…?_ The brunette wondered as she watched the powder remain on top of the lesion. She nibbled her lower lip as she shifted her gaze towards Azusa's face. Silently, the brunette whispered an apology to her before taking a sharp claw and slowly embedding its tip into the stitches' tear until gobbets of blood seeped through the wound. The courier had flinched of course but she did not wake.

An ominous sign.

Quickly wiping the red liquid away from her claw, the Spectre tore her eyes from the small globule of blood that mixed with the powder and firmly planted her gaze on the courier's face. She refused to be seduced by that shade of red after her episode just minutes prior. The Spectre focused on the sick woman's expression, then her lips. Azusa was grimacing again, most likely due to her injury. It pierced the brunette, this expression of agony, and made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. But then again, she thought, this was better than waiting for Azusa to succumb to her scorching fever.

She extended her hand towards the courier's lips and took a moment to smooth the crease of her fitful scowl by carefully using the pads of her fingers. The Spectre recalled that her mother did the same to her in order to persuade her take bitter-tasting herbs or drink similarly tasting teas. It calmed her and allowed her to gather the willpower to ingest such foul things. She did not know if the gesture would have the same effect on the courier until Azusa's grimace loosened into a frown.

"Please…" The Spectre spoke even though she knew the courier might not hear her, "this will help you." She then peppered some of the medicine into the messenger's slightly parted lips and, as gentle as a feather, swept any straggling dust into the courier's mouth with her thumb.

Azusa coughed, obviously unprepared for the medicine in her mouth, and opened her carnelian eyes. Upon sighting them, the Spectre could not help but flinch away, feeling guilty for making the courier take something without her knowledge. But the black-haired woman continued to hack as the powder irritated her dry throat. Realizing that Azusa needed help, the brunette immediately reached for the glass of water she had prepared hours before and timidly helped the courier raise her head so she could drink. After a few frantic gulps of water, the black-haired woman coughed once more and gasped for air, fisting the blankets as she conquers the stings in her throat. Perplexed, all the Spectre could do was support her to keep her upright and stroke her back.

"W-what was…?" The courier tried to speak but her words were quickly smothered by her irritated throat.

The Spectre took a moment to think of the proper words to tell the proper words to tell the sick woman. "Medicine…" She told the courier but she was unable to tear her eyes away from the couch's armrest. She did not want to look at those carnelian eyes.

"M-medicine?"

The brunette flinched, "A doctor used to live here, and I found some of his medicines. D-don't worry… I-I know that particular one. It should help…" She then moved away from Azusa and sat on the floor. She stared blankly at the hem of her dress as her mind wormed through distant images, much like a child who was lost in an extensive gallery of nameless paintings, and tried to put a face to the name no matter how vague it was. When she saw the courier wince due to her lightly bleeding wound, however, the Spectre snapped out of her trance and instinctively pressed one of the cloths she had salvaged from the manor's cabinets against the injury. The gesture earned her a hiss from the disoriented messenger.

"I-I'm sorry…" The horned woman said timidly, unable to tell the courier that it was she who reopened the wound.

Azusa's eyes were clenched shut as she tried to desensitize herself from the strange sting on her shoulder. Gradually the tension relaxed and she was able to open her eyelids once again. She gave the Spectre a sidelong glance as she rested her head against the couch's backrest, "H-How long have I been asleep…?"

The brunette frowned, "Hours…" was all she could say. She was certain was it was evening already, judging from the faint light in the study when she searched for the medicine. But it was hard to tell for thick clouds and the pitter-pattering of rain still dominated the sky.

"I-I see…" The courier breathed shakily, but as she said those words, she did not appear to be fully aware of her surroundings. "My… apologies for imposing…"

The Spectre shook her head, "Y-you're sick and… it's the least I can do…"

She watched the black-haired woman gradually lose consciousness against the couch, evidently still exhausted. Wordlessly, the brunette kneeled in front of the delirious courier and gently lowered her head back on the pillow. She gazed at Azusa's tired yet peaceful expression as she slept. After loosely wrapping the cloth around Azusa's shoulder to impede her bleeding, the Spectre pulled the blankets up towards her chin, tucking the courier in warmth she so desperately needed to combat her illness.

The brunette reached for the wet towel beside Azusa's head and used it to wipe the sweat off the messenger's brow. She fervently hoped that the courier would recover now that she got some medicine. Yet she would have to wait and see if the concoction was still effective. If it failed and the woman's fever did not let up…

_I wouldn't know what to do anymore…_

_..another life is slipping away through my fingers._

Sighing, the Spectre leaned against the one of the couch's legs and gazed down at her hands. She should be used to feeling helpless, useless in the face of tribulation. She had done nothing to help anyone before. She could not even help herself in the past. The brunette sighed despairingly again before taking the small food pouch that had been hanging from her wrist and held it in her clawed hands. She was given hope through this humble item. Even though it was empty now, it filled her with something inexplicable yet wonderful. Could she offer something similar to Azusa in return?

_Tick, tock._

She looked over her shoulder and listened to the courier breathing evenly in her slumber. She looked more relaxed now since the grimace of pain she had worn ever since she returned to the manor was absent on her child-like face. Her lips were slightly parted and her damp fringes were strewn about her forehead. The Spectre idly wondered how young Azusa was, and why she was involved in such a dangerous profession. The courier did not look any older than she did when she—the Spectre halted her thoughts and pressed them deeper into her mind. Curious, the brunette stirred to push Azusa's bangs away from her face in case it bothered her sleep but ceased her movement when her claws came into her view. For the briefest of moments, the brunette saw the talons of a wild animal attempting to ensnare this defenseless woman. Horrified of her own limb, she mutely replaced it on her lap.

_Don't forget what you are._

_But what am I exactly?_

_Tick, tock._

Seconds passed, then minutes. Before long the Spectre had counted thousands of tick tocks as she watched over the person she had been attempting to care for. She grimly wondered just how many of them she had endured now. Just how many grains of sand had already fallen through the hourglass ever since that day she bid her farewell to the light?

She left the courier's side in order to distract herself by feeding the weakening flame in the fireplace with the odds and ends of furniture she had torn down over the years. She then left the room without another glance. Being so close to Azusa made her remember how she was not who she once was. The courier reminded her of what she could never be anymore. She did not fault her though and blamed herself instead. Or at least she tried to. How could she blame herself when she did not even know who she was, what she was? How could an apparition try and judge a phantom? How could a monster punish a demon identical to itself? How could a wingless angel defy God?

The Spectre blindly walked down the corridors, unseeing and unaware where her clawed feet led her through this maze of memories, this labyrinth of sorrow. She thought of how she could further help the courier because she realized that helping Azusa made her feel more human even though she knew she was just pretending to be one. She could dote on her, assist her, and take care of her, but would that erase the horns from her head, peel the scales off her legs, or remove the claws from her hands? No, that was impossible. But there was nothing wrong with giving kindness, was there? It was all she could offer. It was all she had. She was a mere patchwork of essences that should never be, of entities that could never fabricate who she once was.

She existed yet she did not at the same time.

A true Spectre.

How could she feel? How could she see? How could she breathe these familiar scents? How could she embrace this shadow of an existence?

"_You should be a philosopher, Dear. You ask the most profound questions."_

"_Is that bad?"_

"_Of course not, Darling, I just didn't expect such a wise daughter. Your sister is very intelligent as well but…"_

"_I just read it in the book you gave me, Mommy."_

"_Oh? But it was a mere fairytale. Where did those questions come from?"_

"_The Beast asked in the story after the beautiful lady left."_

"_Even most grown-ups can't answer those questions, Ui."_

"_But I want to know."_

"_I'm sure you will when you're older. You'll be such a beautiful person, wise beyond her years, who can answer even those difficult questions."_

"Mother…" the Spectre exhaled as she whispered into the wind. "Do you see me now? Did I become who you thought I would be?"

_No…_ She clenched her right hand bitterly, even though she knew that her mother would never say such a thing. She silently hugged herself as she continued to saunter towards a destination she held close to her heart. The stale air gave way to a gentle breeze as the darkness faded into a subdued clarity. The invisible tendrils that caressed her uneven locks carried a floral scent that was very reminiscent of her mother.

"Are you there…? Where are you?" She hopelessly asked the empty space before stepping out of the corridor's blackness. A world of faint light and gentle song greeted the Spectre as she exposed herself to the crying sky. Her feet left the hard surfaces of flagstones and stepped onto more forgiving soil.

Her feet sank minutely before the soft loam embraced her calloused toes.

She had meandered into her mother's garden, a small expanse of white and purple within this desert of grey and rock. This placed used to be a glowing beacon within this manor, a source of light from the heavens. But as the sky wept its lament, it looked like a counterfeit reflection of what it used to be. Once upon a time, lush bushes of lilacs encircled the garden's perimeter, creating an ethereal mauve cloud around this circular haven. Within the crown of lilacs, white poppies bordered the triangular base of an altar. Their wide-reaching petals welcomed the pillar of light that illuminated the garden as their deep amethyst centers showed reverence to the angel statue that stood proudly at the very center of this floral shrine.

The Spectre looked up at Archangel Raphael as she stood under his kind gaze. He showed the smallest curve of a smile, alleviating the worries and pains of whoever looked up at him. His marble wings gently fanned outward, as if ready embrace those who needed salvation. On his right hand was his characteristic flask that was said to contain God's wonders, while on his left he held his staff ready to guide lost spirits to their destination.

After staring at the Archangel's blank eyes, she then glanced over the remnants of the garden's vegetation. The lilac bushes were still there; their woody branches still barren due to the chill of early spring. The poppies were long gone, however, the horned woman could only discern dried up stems on the mossy ground.

_Of course they were gone_, she thought, _they have done their purpose._ She then approached a sleeping bush and hooked a finger around a barren branch. Her fingertips felt small knobs on the thin twig as she was immediately reminded of time spent in this small sanctuary.

"_Over here! Come quick!"_

"_Mind your steps now. You might slip on the fallen petals."_

_Her mother was sitting on a stool, busying herself in front of her easel as she painted the delicate hues of the abundant flowers onto her canvas. Long sienna hair shimmered under the bright sunlight as a gentle breeze induced them to dance like a silken curtain. There was a content smile on her lips, probably due to the light laughter of two young girls prancing about the garden pretending that the falling purple petals were snowflakes. _

"_There are so many of them!" The smaller of the two girls expressed in wonder, her umber eyes widening as she watched mauve petals circling and twirling before they fell over her._

"_I know~ just like snow!" Her sister grinned before attempting to catch one of the elusive purple fairies. "Except they're not cold! Even better, right?"_

_She giggled, "You have lot of them on your head, Sister."_

"_Oh?" The older girl blinked then lowered her head before giggling as well, "Brush them off for me, Ui~"_

"_Okay!" Happy to help, the little girl wearing a short ponytail reached her tiny hand towards her sister's head and gently brushed the petals away, only to see that there was more of the mauve dust on her sister's sienna hair before she was even done. She looked up and saw her chuckling mother sprinkling the petals over their heads. _

"_It's raining petals!" _

"_Mommy is making it rain petals." _

"_Eh?" Blinking, her sister turned around to see if she was telling the truth._

"_Oh, you girls are so adorable~" Their mother exclaimed before gathering both her daughters into her arms and giving both of them kisses on their cheeks. _

"_That tickles~"_

"_Yeah, Mommy, that tickles!" But even though they both squirmed to get away from their mother's feathery kisses, they both clung onto the woman's dress, wishing that playtime with their beloved mother would last forever._

_A deep chuckle interrupted their little play as the girls' father came out to join them, "I knew I heard wonderful music coming from here."_

"_Daddy!"_

"_Taking a break, Sweetheart?" Her mother asked._

"_After hearing you ladies laughing out here, yes, I might as well." There was an amused and slightly playful tone in her father's voice as he approached them, "They look more and more like you every day, Aki."_

"_Hmm, you think so?"_

"_Mhmm," he chuckled quietly as he reached over and brushed his eldest's hair free of purple petals before speaking to his wife once again, "You have a very silly smile on your face, Dear."_

_The two girls giggled loudly, "Daddy's right," the elder girl said, "You have a silly smile, Mommy."_

_The younger sibling looked up to see her mother's face but ended up squinting as the sun threatened to burn her eyes. All she saw was the woman's smiling lips. She could not see her mother's eyes but she knew that they must be crinkling in mirth just like the corners of her mouth. _

A drop of water suddenly fell on her eyelash, making her surface from the scenic memory that played right in front of her unfocused eyes. Letting go of the twig she held, the brunette returned her gaze towards the angel's face and decided that the Archangel's smile was just like her mother's, calm and serene yet also featuring a small hint of playfulness.

However, despite his perpetual smile, Archangel Raphael seemed to be weeping in grief and sorrow as the rain streamed down his pale marble face like a beacon of hope despairing in solitude.

"You remember, don't you? The people who prayed to you," the Spectre asked the statue before her eyes were blinded by the mists of rain.

The angel remained mute and continued to smile.

The brunette left the company of the lilacs' gnarly branches and ascended onto the first step of the altar. With her feet out of the mud, the Spectre watched as the rain gradually cleansed her clawed and scaled limbs, as if washing away sins that marred her very being. Drop by drop, the dirt was taken away, even the blood that Azusa had smeared on her rough white dress started to fade. She continued to watch this phenomenon in wonder, waiting to see if the divine liquid could wash her away as well and erase her very existence.

She slowly lifted her head to face the heavens, and felt its tears land on her forehead, eyelids, and lips, blessing her in its own wonderful way. She then opened her palms towards the sky to receive the same benediction, and felt the wrapping that encased her injured palm fall near her feet. The sky's sorrows then kissed the angry scar on her palm, anointing the mark with the most potent of potions and taking with it all the remnants of pain it had caused.

"Did you hear them? You were listening, weren't you?" She asked softly, her voice easily smothered by the sky's wail.

"Will you listen to me too? I… understand why my prayers were not granted before." The brunette looked up at the statue's face, "I should not ask for my own sake, shouldn't I? No matter how much I plead, no matter how much I ask, my prayers are nothing but words of selfishness if they were only for me. But there is someone here, someone who had shown so much compassion… she's gravely ill… and I can do little to help her."

The Archangel passed no judgment and uttered no words. He merely looked down upon her with his perpetual expression of kindness.

Comforted by the angel's gentle smile, the Spectre kneeled where she stood with utmost humility, clutching the empty pouch hanging from her wrist. She stilled for a moment and filled her heart with a solemn wish as water dripped down from her horns and through her hair before flowing down her cheeks. She took sanctified air into her lungs and enclosed the pouch in her intertwined fingers before saying, "Please hear me… I need your help."

"_Then pray with me…"_

She heard her mother's voice as she closed her umber eyes and allowed the rain to completely embrace her.

The Spectre bared her soul to the heavens and prayed.

_Please heal her, she who had shown me clemency even though I offered her nothing but agony._

_Save her, your lost messenger, gleaming brilliantly in this purgatory of sin,_

_So she may one day fly back to you._

_Rejuvenate her, this wounded angel, for it is much too early for her rejoin her choir._

_Spare her… and grant her a gentle fate._

Archangel Raphael continued to smile as the sky darkened further, the rain falling harder on his wings, and somberly listened to this demon who dared to pray to God for the sake of a fallen angel.

_Please, hear me…_

The Spectre prayed endlessly into the coldness of the night, numb to the outside world and completely immersed in her righteous hope. She prayed and prayed, praising the God that had seemingly abandoned her, entreating His benevolence and His strength. She prayed and joined the timeless world the Archangel resided in, still and unmoving, with the serenity of the angel she once was.

She pleaded and did not care how long she knelt on the hard marble. Her human soul beseeched the Almighty for the salvation of another while her fiendish form endured the cold curtain of the night. She did not tremble despite the chill. She did not move from where she implored for mercy and became like a statue in this ethereal place, her silhouette looking like a wingless gargoyle begging for its life under the scrutiny of a mighty seraph.

Yet, as the rainclouds parted an eternity later, the moon beamed down upon this denizen of darkness and casted a soft glow upon her chestnut hair.

"Miss Ui…?"

At the beautiful sound, the horned woman opened her eyes and lifted her lips from her entwined fingers. Her gaze, so full of emotion, searched for the source of that enchanting peal and found the messenger in her prayers standing by the doorway, slightly leaning against its frame with her clothes in disarray. But even the disheveled sight was enough to fill the Spectre's heart with beatitude.

The brunette slowly lowered her clawed hands to her sides with her eyes focused on the figure against the door, captivated by the sight before her.

Azusa looked at her, tired but alert, "I… I was looking for you."

She smiled reassuringly as she wiped both her and the heaven's tears from her face, while the courier blinked in wonder.

"I'm here."

_I'm always here._

Their eyes met for a brief moment before the downpour returned.

* * *

><p>"<em>Rain, rain, falling, falling~"<em>

The brown-haired woman twirled her parasol, splashing the clear liquid in every direction. She laughed blithely, the spectral softness of her voice harmonizing impeccably with quiet sobs of rain. She waltzed through the insubstantial curtain under the light shower, making absolutely no sound even as she stepped onto the muddy path.

"_She is happily accompanying me with our umbrella~"_

The lady smiled prettily and tilted her parasol, allowing a bit of rain to caress her feathery-soft dress. The beads slowly trickled down the fabric, landing onto the murky ground as vermillion droplets. Their vibrant hue vanished within the shadows, instantly absorbed by the darkness of the earth. Her smile remained fixed as she observed the forest around her with a faraway glint in those auburn orbs. The brunette arrived in front of the pond and crouched down in front of its rippling surface. There was only a faint reflection, an ununiformed spectrum of grey that did not shift even as the waves slice through the hazy image.

She reached out and dipped her finger into the pond, its azure color blurring into umber under the sleeping sky. She could almost see another pair of hands beside hers, also curious and expectant. Yet instead of the small, shelled reptile from her memories, innumerous bleached objects greeted her eyes even as they continued to slumber within the murky depths. They all look the same to her, those sharp and blunt edges, protruding from the cracks and piling onto stacks, indistinct and intangible. They all served their purpose though.

"_Splish-splish, splash-splash, la la la~"  
><em>

It was fascinating, really, that these heavenly tears hummed the same song whenever she was immersed with her work. This beautiful melody removed the dreadful silence that made time sludge by so slowly. She giggled and submerged her hand underwater, recalling the gorgeous painting she created with golden strands and golden orbs that contrasted sharply from the usual pile of raven black hair. She enjoyed gathering and creating unusual colors the most, but even the loveliest of hue was dyed with that bothersome maroon. She was very fond of the richness and creaminess of the red though.

And it didn't matter that the colors were tinted because the art she fashioned became beautiful once more, especially when she saw the smile she loved so much. Everything, _everything_ was worth it because in the end, the smile would be eternally bright.

"_Splish-splish, splash-splash, la la la~"_

Funny, the same tune also echoed within the dungeons when the tools of her trade danced through the air to paint pretty colors on the walls. She had reacted instinctively back then, cracking one of those inhuman horns before it could reach her. Yet she continued to smile, unable to sing along with the melody since her throat was impaled with that osseous fragment wielded like a kitchen knife. Her smile remained even as the crimson paintbrush stroked downwards, drawing stunningly messy pictures on her chest. Even as the smile she loved so much widened and revealed sinister fangs that slowly sank into her flesh, all she did was smile.

They became one.

But they will never be together.

The lady named herself after autumn not because of the brittle evanescence of the falling leaves, but because of the subsequent stage. Until its inevitable arrival whispered the grand finale, she would bury her former existence in the special jar like the one she used to read about in those mythical tales.

But it was just the two of them right now, so there was no need to think about such things. The brunette lifted a smooth cranium from the pond and smiled at its grinning teeth. The sky was clearing yet the forest was still enshrouded in hazy darkness. The starless night was barely visible on the last drop of rain as it dripped down those empty sockets.

Laughing, she embraced the skull tenderly.

"Hello, you~"

* * *

><p><em><strong>"It was night, and the rain fell; and falling, it was rain, but, having fallen, it was blood." <strong>_

_**~ Edgar Allan Poe**_

* * *

><p><strong>End of Primus Arcus: Wounded Angel<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Authors' Notes:<strong>

**Athyra: **As heaven's tears dropped upon the earth, indiscernable ripples faded into dark maroon and signified the end of Arc1. What will rain and what will fall?

**ghikiJ: **This chapter was late due to my horrendously busy schedule this past month. Fortunately, college is over for me (for now at least, I am seriously considering getting an higher degree in the future), and this chapter is sort of like a gift to our readers in celebration.

Anyway, this is indeed the end of Arc1. Somehow "Spectre" has evolved into a multi-arc story, but since it keeps changing, I cannot disclose how many chapters it will have right now. I hope you liked this (really) long chapter. If things go as planned, the next one would not be this long. Illustrations will be late this time around because Athyra is trying something new with them. As usual, just stay tuned and check her DA page every now and then to see if they have been uploaded.

**Background Information:**

_P. notatum_ is the old name of _Penicillium chrysogenum, _the mold from which the antibiotic Penicillin is extracted from. We are aware that Penicillin was not discovered by Sir Alexander Fleming until the 1928, which is more than a century from the story's timeline. We just decided to take liberties so the story would have a move realistic feel to it despite all the unnatural phenomenons that occur. There are many nameless discoverers whose findings were credited to others in later decades because they were not able to garner enough backing and attention, especially in those eras. Of course, we are not claiming that Sir Fleming was not the true discoverer of Penicillin, so no conspiracy theories here. However, the way the Spectre administered the medication is strictly fictional. While it is true that Sir Fleming did human testing, we simply did not have time to research how he did his studies.


End file.
